


Lilac Fantasies

by BirgitteHeuschkel



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: 2008 was a great year in pop culture, Adulting is hard, Arting is also hard, Comedy, F/M, Implied abuse, Slow Romance, The bad guy gets his due, Video games are a good place to meet girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 88,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirgitteHeuschkel/pseuds/BirgitteHeuschkel
Summary: All it takes for a dream to resurface is a sleepy ferret and a brother who has kept the family secret for decades. A slow-paced, snarky tale of goblins, kings, fantasy artists, dreams, and how 2008's youth just isn't what it used to be.





	1. Here Be Sparkles

_This is a work of tribute to Jim Henson's "Labyrinth". No money is made and much love is shared. I owned nothing at the time of writing but a lilac tree out in my yard and a horde of ferrets._

  


 

The marble floor was cold. Warmth radiated from somewhere up there amidst a luxurious supply of charcoal grey satin. She dropped her toy and crawled up one boot discarded by the bedside and sniffed before poking her head in. Warmth. Her entire body twitched with excitement as she snuck into the warm, welcoming darkness. She wormed her way between folds towards the warmest area. A foot. There was a foot in her warm nest. She sniffed it. It smelled kind of nice but not the right kind of nice. She licked a toe. Not bad. If it would kindly move a bit she'd be able to lie in the warm spot. She bit it for good measure.

Jareth, King of the Goblins, Lord of the Labyrinth, and a handful of other extravagant titles, made a most inelegant exit from bed when something bit his royal foot. He yelped and held his injured foot in one hand whilst balancing on the other leg, looking around for his unseen assailant. The bedroom was empty as it should be. There was no goblin sitting in the foot end and if there had been, it would have been hiding under the bed by now anyhow. He glanced down – no goblins under the bed, either. With a grunt he yanked the satin duvet off the bed, seeking to expose the enemy. Two needlepoint eyes in a roguish furry face peered up at him with a dignified expression of dismay.

He squatted down and looked at the creature. Some kind of weasel. Friendly, unrepentant, and quite miffed that he had removed its protection from the chill of the morning. "Well," he murmured. "It's my bed. Now where did you come from, little one?"

The ferret rolled on its back, curling back around itself so that it was using its own abdomen as a headrest and then folded its tail over its ears.

"Why, I do believe you just told me to shut up," he said good-naturedly. "I suppose you'll want the duvet back too?"

The Goblin King tucked the little creature in. It seemed completely at ease, if not right out indifferent to his touch. In fact, it ignored him to the point of rudeness. He laid down again, careful not to disturb his new bedmate, and summoned another duvet with a snap of two slender fingers. "I think, my dear, that I will call you... Princess."

* * *

"Hoo boy. That's some seriously repressed sexuality you got here, Sarah."

"Wossit?"

Amanda grinned and showed her the page of the old sketchbook she was currently viewing. The drawing that showed traces of insecurity about perspective as well as the immense, focused detail of an obsessed sixteen-year-old. It depicted a man in full figure (with a small bookcase in front, feet are so hard to draw) wearing a foot-long black cape, posing arrogantly with his hands on his slender hips (and a bouquet of roses on the table concealed most of one hand because, dammit, it had just been so hard to get to match the first). He had a riding crop tucked into one tall boot, his white ruffled shirt revealed quite a bit of toned chest, and the black tights were way, way too tight. Blue eyes peered out under arched eyebrows and a quite fantastic mop of unruly golden hair. A smirk danced on thin lips.

Sarah blushed. "That's just an old thing," she said with assumed indifference. "Must be ages."

Amanda snickered and studied the drawing in close detail. She paid extra attention to certain details with shameless amusement. "Man, that's gotta hurt when he walks. How old were you when you drew this, fifteen?"

Sarah went from crimson to deep vermilion. "Sixteen, whatever. You were looking for a fairy, remember? I think that's a little big."

"Sure is," Amanda winked, ignoring her friend and co-worker's groan. "So who's Prince Charming? Some singer?"

"I don't even remember, I had a new crush every other week," Sarah lied. "Were you going to look at the fairy designs I made?"

"Yeah, yeah." Amanda closed the sketchbook. "Seriously, though, you should totally redo that and send it in. It'd make an awesome vampire."

Sarah nibbled on her pencil's end. "Vampire?"

The other woman nodded, red bangs bobbing. "Yep. Hot, nocturnal, sparkly. Twilight, eighties style. Get the twihards -and- their moms. Anyhow, can I borrow that fairy book? I'll see what I can make out, it's getting really late." She reached for her handbag.

Sarah let Amanda out of the apartment. Then she poured herself another mug of coffee before settling down at the desk again. The pile of sketchbooks was pretty huge – but of course Amanda had to pick out that old book, and open it on that old page. She sipped, cursed about scalding her tongue, and opened her laptop's lid. Wouldn't hurt to take a look at sparkly vampires for inspiration.

* * *

"These are great," Will announced, and pointed at the spreadsheets of fairy designs. "Feminine, cute, sexy but still pee gee thirteen. We'll definitely do a calendar with them. The poster, though, I'm not sure about."

"Too dark?" Sarah asked. She knew that having the dark cloak fading in with the dark background had been cheating. The early hours of the night had stopped being all that early.

Her art director shook his head. "No, that's fine. Dark and gloomy and sensual is good. But the hair is way too Twisted Sister and the make-up screams glam rocker, not vampire. Even if," he grinned, "you gave him Robert Pattinson's eyes and pout. The Vampire Lestat in concert outfit works great, though."

Sarah blinked. "What?"

"If you crop the hair and lose some of the make-up it'll be perfect for a poster," Will said, commiserating. Being a digital painter too, he knew how much pain it often was, going back to edit a finished painting.

Sarah peered at the poster. The Goblin King, enhanced by the magic of Photoshop and her tablet, looked back at her, but with the brown doe eyes and little girl pout that could send a certain kind of teenage girl into a merchandise shopping frenzy. "God," she said. "I must have been sleep working. I am definitely editing that."

"Haircut, maybe a smile," the art director agreed. "Now, I like the autumn theme on this group here, but I was thinking maybe toss in some more leaves. Give you an excuse to flex that shades of red and yellow muscle – "

She nodded in the appropriate places during the rest of the conversation. If anyone had asked her what Will had been saying afterwards she would have had to confess that she had no idea. Her eyes kept straying back to that pout and those big, wet, brown puppy eyes. She was still thinking of them an hour later as she dodged through traffic. She was muttering about twi-hards and sparkly stalkers when she stomped up the stairs to her apartment. She was ready to strangle any unfortunate fairies in her path after she fed Bikkit the ferret and flopped down on her chair in front of the desk with coffee and a bagel.

"This didn't happen," she muttered while chewing. "I'm going to reorder time with a sledgehammer if I have to, that did -not- happen." She had gone from sledgehammer through a series of hardware upgrades that culminated with artillery shells at the time her kid brother turned up, letting himself into the apartment with the key he'd nicked from her months ago.

"Someone steal your lunch money, sis?" Toby grinned and threw his coat on a chair. "I haven't seen you this ready to kill somebody since last time you got a ticket for speeding."

"I made a terrible drawing," Sarah groused. "Bad. Monstrous. Gruesome. Horrid."

"Will turned down one of your fairies?" He looked surprised.

Sarah shot him a gloomy look.

"Will turned down all your fairies?

A gloomier look.

He threw his hands up."Will cut out every single fairy, glued them to cardboard and turned them into office dartboards?"

Sarah groaned.

"I'm putting more coffee on. I'll use it to bargain for my life." He poured water on the espresso maker. "Okay, a goblin ate your fairies. And your tablet. And your laptop. And your driver's license. Have you checked on Bikkit lately?"

"Toby, stop being a smart ass and get over here."

"I prefer being a live smart ass over here." He walked back to the desk anyhow. "Okay, what is it?"

Sarah opened the folder and pulled out the poster print depicting the disaster. "That."

The youth's eyes widened. "Holy shit. You drew that?"

"It's based off an old thing I did in '87. I was out of ideas and Amanda liked it."

"Yeah, but the face is totally wrong."

Sarah groaned. "Yes. But it was right when I saved it last night."

Toby took another look. "He looks like friggin' Edward Cullen. Are you going to use this print for anything?"

Sarah peered at him. "It's -wrong-."

"Yeah, well, I figured Hoggle might get a laugh out of it." The youth walked back to the kitchen counter and poured the espresso. Holding one mug out he proclaimed, "Peace offering! No hurting the kid brother!"

She could not help giggling. "I'm not going to hurt you, you twit. I'm pretty sure you're not responsible for this... disaster."

"So can I have it?"

"No. I'm killing it dead, with scissors." She clicked on the keyboard of her laptop and pulled up the Photoshop document. "This is what it's supposed to look like." The face on the monitor looked nothing like a Twilight character. It looked cold, arrogant, preening, and, well, like it should.

"Yeah, I figured," Toby grinned. "His Tightness doing Edward Cullen, that's a riot."

Sarah spluttered. "What did you say?"

"His Tightness. You know, His Royal Glitterness. The King." Toby pulled out the same old sketchbook that Amanda had been going through the previous day. "You got a whole book of drawings of him, remember? I know what he looks like. And if I should ever forget I have Hoggle reminding me often enough."

"I'm glad Hoggle's still looking after you, though." She sighed at the monitor. "He does look kind of funny and eighties, I guess. But he's still dangerous."

"I know, I know. Never go through the mirror, never pick up any crystal balls, never say 'I wish', stay on the path, look before you cross the road, brush your teeth before you go to bed, and chew your food thirty-five times."

"Toby."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not twelve, Sarah. I know the rules. The worst thing that ever happened to me was Ludo beating me at Scrabble and that damn goblin who keeps stealing my socks. Please, not another sermon. I'm not hearing you, I hear nothing – nothing, tra la la." He clasped his hands over his ears.

"What did you just say?" Sarah put her mug down.

He ventured a sidewards glance. "No sermon?"

"After that."

"I can't hear you, na na na na?"

"Yeah. That."

Toby took his hands down. "I was just trying to be funny. Are you going to print another copy of that?" He pointed at the monitor.

Sarah replied, "Maybe. Might just do something else. Start from scratch. I think I will."


	2. Goblins, Goblins, Goblins!

The King was in a good mood that evening. He sprawled on his throne, playing with a small, bitey bunch of fur that nipped at his gloves and tried to wrestle his thumb into submission. The ferret then tried to yank his triangular pendant off its chain on his chest. Princess was enjoying the affection to the fullest; she loved the attention. A handful of goblins sat and stood around the throne, peering and giggling at her antics. The mood was light and while goblinity as a whole was not prone to deep psychological insight, they knew a few things. The king's good mood meant they weren't likely to get kicked across the room, turned into frogs, or tossed into an oubliette for a week or six.

"Where do you think this little gem has come from, Octavius?" Jareth was amused. At the time of his question, Princess' incisors were buried in the wrist of said goblin.

"A closet," the goblin offered while trying to shake the creature off. He succeeded and the ferret scampered up to sit on the King's shoulder, triumphant.

"I wonder what ferrets eat," Jareth mused. "Rats?"

"Chickens." Several goblins looked hopeful.

"Mice."

"Socks."

"Kitty food." Octavius turned his worn baseball cap around on his head as a lot of eyes turned his way, including a pair of mismatched ones. "Well, they do. I seen it."

"Do they now? Well, Octavius," the King gracefully decreed, "then you will have to go find some of that. We can't quite leave Princess to go hungry, can we?"

* * *

Amanda dutifully returned the fairy sketchbook first thing on their lunch break. "I think I'm going to go with one of the small butterfly fairies," she informed her friend while picking at her pasta salad. "I like the way they look so adorably cute until you look at their faces and they have this really wicked expression like they're waiting for you to hold out a finger for them to bite."

Sarah grinned. "I'm not good at cute fairies. They always seemed kind of vicious to me."

"Your art has always had a bite," Amanda agreed. "Speaking of which, did you get a chance to rework Sparkly McTightpants?"

"I don't think I want to. I'm a little too fond of the original, I guess."

Amanda speared a bit of tuna on her fork. "Don't blame you, the old sketch wasn't up to par with what you do these days but it had a lot more life. Why aren't you eating? Something wrong with the salad?"

Sarah shook her head. "I'm just thinking. I have a lot on my mind today."

"Man trouble?"

"Do I look like I have man trouble to you?"

"Oh hell yes." Amanda grinned.

Sarah nibbled at the pasta a moment. "Well, kind of. It's not man trouble exactly but there is a guy and there is trouble."

"Dear Amanda, last night I met a man and now I'm in trouble," her friend droned, impersonating a newspaper agony aunt.

Sarah laughed. "Yeah, well. He's an old – acquaintance. Not a friend as such. I never really knew him but the one time we did get together we clashed majorly. I don't trust him. And I think my brother's been spending time with him without me knowing about it."

"Psch, old boyfriends can be a pain in the backside," Amanda agreed.

"Oh, nothing like that. Mind you, I'd totally have been into the idea if I had been legal. He was older than me but damn, he was sizzling. He was smoking. He was also an egotistical, arrogant control freak who thought the world of himself."

"Story of my life," Amanda speared another piece. "Men are like public rest rooms, the good ones are taken and the bad ones are full of crap. So what's this guy got to do with Toby – oh, I got it, he's a teacher?"

Sarah laughed. "In a way. I'm just worried whether he's a bad influence."

"Unless this guy's secretly a gay stalker of his students I don't see the problem," Amanda observed. "Invite him out, have dinner, get to know him. Just because someone was an ass twenty years ago doesn't mean they still are, and besides, you were a little bitch back then anyhow. I know I was and I think I was a pretty ordinary kid."

Amanda kept chatting about her teenage years, the various boyfriends, stupidities, and rows with parents that earned her brat points at the time. Sarah managed to make a few appropriate nods, giggles, and conspiratorial winks, but she was no longer paying attention. Ask the guy out to dinner, get to know him. Yeah, that would go over well. She could take the Goblin King out for Thai and after that, maybe World War Three for fun and giggles. For a nightcap she could always find some fire escape to stand on while shouting 'You have no power over me'. What the hell, Toby?

* * *

That evening Sarah baked. She used pre-made cookie dough and banned Bikkit from the kitchen until the cookies were in the oven. She put the finished, warm, delicious smelling cookies on the kitchen counter, turned her back to them, and counted to ten. Half the cookies were being gobbled up by small, odd looking figures and one ferret when she turned around again and shouted, "Ha!"

Seven pairs of eyes stared at her with varying degrees of innocence. She put her hands on her hips. "Hello, boys. And Anastasia," she amended.

Anastasia fluttered her eyelashes over her pig snout. Muffle hugged Bikkit. "Hello, Sarah!" they chorused shrilly.

"So, who wants to play a quiz game?"

"Me! Me! Pick me!" Hopscotch, true to the name she had given him, was jumping up and down.

Sarah grinned. "Tonight we're gonna play a new game I came up with. If you all play real well I got presents for you when we're done."

Five little goblin faces went ooh. One went grmph, rather than ooh, but then, that's why they called him Badger in the first place.

"Okay," Sarah laughed. "Badger, Anastasia, and Octavius, you're a team. Muffle, Hopscotch, and Elmo, you're the other team. You take turns answering my questions and I'll judge which team is best. You get extra points for speaking in character."

The goblins scurried around – and made a few more cookies disappear in the process – until they were seated in two groups. "I want to go first!" Hopscotch shouted.

She sat cross-legged on the floor between them and Bikkit scampered up her shoulder. "Okay, Badger's team plays for the Labyrinth and Muffle's team plays for Aboveground, got it?" Six heads bobbed up and down. "Okay, Hopscotch, you can go first. You have to walk like Rob."

The gnarled little face twisted as the goblin thought of Sarah's ex-husband. Then he hopped up and started pacing up and down the kitchen floor with his arms behind his back, looking for all the world like someone deep in thought. She could not help snickering. The little creature had Rob's mannerisms down pretty pat.

She applauded. The five others followed suit, Team Underground less enthusiastically than Team Aboveground. "One point for Hopscotch," she announced. "Now Badger has to do Hoggle!"

The somewhat chubby and remarkably bearded goblin stood with a grunt. Then he began to crouch until his backside stood out prominently and scuttled around, muttering. The impersonation was spot on the dwarf's habit of, well, scuttling and muttering to himself.

"One point for the Underground," Sarah announced, causing another round of applause. "Anastasia, you get to do me now."

The girl goblin beamed and tossed her flaxen curls. She put one clawed hand theatrically on her chest and the other on her brow and began to run up and down the kitchen floor. "It's not fair! It's not faaaaaair!"

Sarah spluttered. "I don't whine like that!"

Six merciless snickers told her otherwise. "Okay," she ceded the point. "But then Muffle has to do the king."

The rotund little creature fluffed up his huge squirrel tail and stuck his chest out. Walking on the tips of his claws he strutted across the kitchen floor showing off everything he had in a way that made Anastasia snicker, Badger roll his eyes, and Sarah try hard to not choke. Muffle spun around on imaginary heels and glowered. Five goblins promptly fell silent, getting into the game. Muffle swaggered and threw an arrogant glance across his shoulder and tail, and then raised a front paw in an impatient gesture. On cue, the other five cheered and laughed.

She hugged the fur ball. "Muffle, I love you. Octavius, you get to do Toby now."

Muffle sat back down and pulled Bikkit close to him, an action the ferret didn't object to. Octavius turned his baseball cap around so that it was backwards on his head. Leaning against the wall he raised one furry leg against it so that he reclined with arms crossed over his chest. His beady eyes followed something invisible walking past him, and he let out a low wolf whistle full of promises that Sarah found vaguely disturbing. "Toby does that a lot?"

Six heads bobbed. "Girls think it's cute," Octavius confided.

"I'm starting to worry about Toby's choice of male role model," Sarah muttered. "Okay, Elmo, you get to do – aw, don't look like that, Elmo, it's just a game."

The lanky goblin was blushing and trying to hide behind Badger, shaking his purple mane. "Are you sure?" Sarah asked. The goblin nodded, a lot. "Well, okay, then. But that means Team Underground is behind one point so we have to do another round!"

Six heads bobbed; Elmo looked relieved.

Team Underground had won, largely due to Muffle's ability to render accurate parodies of just about anyone native to the Labyrinth that Sarah had been able to name. The furry little goblin did not talk insofar as she knew of but it was remarkably observant for its species. She had handed out prizes, letting the gang choose between plastic hair clips, paper flowers, and glittery stickers as they preferred. Hopscotch had been parading around with a sparkly Bratz fake tattoo on one shoulder. The remaining cookies had disappeared, Bikkit was asleep under the sofa, no doubt hoarding her stash. Now only Anastasia remained, dangling her hairy feet from where she sat on the kitchen counter. Sarah tried not to play favourites but if pressed she had to admit that the pig-faced girl goblin was one of her favourites, and smarter than most of her male companions.

"That was fun, Sarah!"

Sarah settled on the opposite kitchen counter with a mug of coffee. "Yep. And Muffle is awesome."

"Much better as the King than as a cannonball," Anastasia nodded happily.

Sarah smirked. "I doubt that His Majesty would agree."

Anastasia winked conspiratorially; some things were best not mentioned back home. Sarah never knew what exactly the relationship was between the goblins and their king. Sometimes they seemed to fear him, sometimes to hero worship him. Most of the time they ignored that he existed, much like children out of their parents' range of vision.

"Anastasia, there's something I need to ask you about," Sarah admitted. "Something that has to stay just between you and me."

The goblin girl fingered a lock of her unruly hair. "Is it another Rob, Sarah?"

Sarah blinked. "Er. No. No Rob." For a moment she saw herself asking date advice from a goblin. The vision was fairly terrifying, although if it had to be, Anastasia would be far from the worst choice. "It's about Toby."

"Okay!"

"Remember back when I was in the Labyrinth? Toby was with you guys in the castle. Anastasia, what would have happened if I hadn't won?"

The goblin peered at her. "Not s'posed to talk about that, Sarah," she admonished.

Sarah sipped her coffee to keep calm. "Please, Anastasia. I think that the King and Toby have been talking. I really need to know if Toby is in danger now."

Anastasia peered again. "Oh. Nah. Not s'posed to talk about it."

She sighed. "All right. Fine. How is he, anyway?"

The goblin giggled. "Happy. Plays with the princess a lot."

Sarah realised that that was not the answer she had been looking for at all. "Oh, that's nice," she murmured.

Anastasia beamed. "Yeah. He's so much nicer when he's happy. She makes the bedroom a mess, though."

Sarah stood. "Okay, I think that's a little more information than I needed."

* * *

She called Toby that night after she had changed into pyjamas and curled up on her bed, her apartment free of otherworldly visitors. She could tell that she had interrupted her brother in playing one of his online games. He sounded distant and distracted when he said, "Toby Williams."

"It's me, Toby. Got a few?"

"I'm kinda raiding, Sarah."

"It won't take long," she promised. "I just have to ask you something."

There was the tell-tale pause in responding that told her that her brother was glued to his monitor, trying to keep up with what was going on in the game. "Right, right, Sis. Shoot."

"Toby, have you ever found out what the goblins really are?"

"What?"

"I'm trying to find out what it really is we've had coming and going for all this time, Toby. What are they? Fairies?"

"Beats me," he said distractedly. "Ask them?"

"I did. They said they're not allowed to talk about it."

"Well, ask him, then. Shit, hit it, hit it!" Frantic typing sounds ensued through the receiver.

"Toby."

"What?"

"I can't just ask him, Toby. We're not exactly on the best of terms, remember?"

Toby groaned. "Crap. Look, Leggylas just croaked. I got to pay attention to this. Just go and ask the guy already. What's he gonna do, glitter at you? I really gotta go."

"Okay. Okay. Night, then, and good luck raiding."

* * *

Jareth sat upright with a start at the sound of ballroom music. The bedroom was completely empty but for the small furry animal that had claimed the foot end. Familiar notes drifted as if carried on the night wind from afar. Then he laid back down and touched the ferret with one thumb. It moved twitched in a dream that no doubt involved the chase of something. "I envy you," he murmured to it as the dream began to take him. "Whatever you're dreaming it looks like it's a lot more fun."

* * *

The kitchen raid went according to plan, more or less. Badger flat out refused to don the black ninja outfit but the rest of them looked the part at least. Cuchullain and Muffle kept watch in the living room while Octavius tiptoed into the kitchen and began rummaging around in the cabinets.

"Quiet!" Elmo hissed. "If she wakes up there'll be bog for the lot of us!"

"Am quiet," Octavius muttered. "Bean soup. Flour. Aha! Kitten food!" He flung the package out of the cabinet and Elmo deftly caught it.

"Octavius, there's a picture of a cat on this box."

"I know," the other goblin whispered back. "It's the right stuff. I seen her fill the princess' bowl."

"But it's not a cat."

"Maybe it's made from cats."

Elmo groaned. "Put it in a tupperware box. If we hand this over we'll be chasing cats next."

  



	3. Do You Like Her Dream?

Sarah curled up on the bed, hugging the pillow. Sleep took her to a glorious crystal ballroom where she chased an elusive cavalier through a crowd of decadent dancers. She had not had that dream in years. When she realized that it was going to end, again, with her smashing a chair through the window to break the illusion, she groaned. It always ended that way. She heard the clock strike, and pushed away from the dance, through the crowd that pressed her on all sides. Her knuckles turned white as her hands closed on the chair, and she turned to face the great window. Or was it the wall of a crystal with her trapped inside? She had never been certain.

Her reflection was so young, barely more than a child. Large green eyes stared back at her, wide in fear and disbelief. They shimmered with the enchantment, sparkling like the pearls in her hair. This was the face of a girl who was too young to be attending a ball like this. Too young to understand the games played out between the courtiers. It was the face of a child who had realized that she was not supposed to be there, and that time was running out.

"No," she murmured. "I already did this. It doesn't have to end this way."

A hand brushed over her shoulder, like the fluttering of a moth's wing. She let go of the chair and turned around, drinking in the appearance of him. The gentle wisps of white-tendriled magic removed any imperfection or flaw from her princess fantasy and the king who starred in it.

His lips moved. She could not hear the words but his expression was questioning.

"Why, yes, Majesty, I'd love another dance," she replied cheerfully and held out her arms to slip into his embrace. It was just a dream and she was just fifteen. Too young to club him over the head with the chair and drag him in under one of those buffet tables caveman style, but she'd take what she could get.

* * *

That morning Sarah called in sick. Will was not thrilled about that but he agreed that you can't quite argue with the flu. Besides, it would be pointless to have her come in and pass it on to every other artist in the studio. He made her promise to eat her own weight in chicken broth, drink cranberry juice, and get better. And if she did get better he wouldn't mind if she found the energy to do some sketch work for that vampire poster. She made tea and huddled up at her work table in a blanket, turning the laptop on. What a night. What. A. Dream. She definitely needed to sort her head out.

As a girl Sarah kept a diary. The contents of itmade her adult toes curl. It was a pretty pink thing with a little lock on it. She had filled the pages with small tidbits about things that happened in school. Movies she had watched, books she had read. Rants about her parents – all three of them – and drawings of princesses and ponies. Later, the diary was replaced by a journal kept in a binder. The ponies had given way to drawings of goblins and their antics. These days it was a dated directory of OpenOffice documents and scanned sketches.

She hit Google, copying in the useful tidbits to a new document. When the doorbell rang hours later, she was still engrossed in stories. Reports of girls who passed photographs of paper fairies off as the real thing. Fairies who exchanged their own dark and ugly children for golden haired human babies. Speculations of ultra-terrestrials once appearing as fairies, now as aliens, to oversee the development of humanity. Tales of Irish fae royalty. Angels falling from Heaven to become fairies. Fairies being local gods dwindling in power as their believers died out. A large number of blog entries condemning the Disneyficiation of fairies in order to sell pink glitter princess fantasies to young girls.

Sarah padded out to answer the door, still in her pyjamas, blanket, and giant fuzzy Tigger slippers. Amanda took one look at her as the door opened and burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Sarah grumped.

"You are," her friend grinned and swept into the apartment. "Will asked me to drop off the prints for the fairy calendars so you can see what kind of space you get to work with. Spare a cup of tea for a friendly co-worker?"

"Help yourself. I'm sick, that gets me out of playing hostess." Sarah curled up on her chair again.

Amanda knew her way around Sarah's kitchen well enough to grab a mug from a kitchen cabinet before sitting down. She glanced at the monitor. A Wordpress journal with a particularly glittery picture of Tinkerbell. It was animated and the little wings flapped. "Urgh?" she said, pointing at it.

"Just keeping an eye on the competition."

"Yeah, well, don't go there," her friend advised. "That's wrong on so many levels I can't even count them. What are you working on?"

Sarah refilled her own mug. "I'm not, really. I just had the most screwed up dream last night and I'm kind of trying to sort my head out."

"Ooh," Amanda perked up. "Head sorting. We loves it, my precioussss."

Sarah giggled. "Okay, okay. It's a dream I've had many times. I'm in a ballroom and there's a masquerade going on. It's a Venetian kind of thing, you know? Very 18th century and everything is very pretty but at the same time there's also this air of decadence. I don't really see any details but you can tell there's all sorts of things going on in the shadows. But here's the kicker: I'm only fifteen years old and I shouldn't be there at all."

Amanda sipped. "Mmm, sounds like fun, though. Is there a prince to go with it?"

A faint blush crept across Sarah's cheeks. "Oh yes. Well, he's not a prince exactly, but he's definitely there and I have to run around looking for him until I find him and we dance."

"And at midnight you run away and lose a shoe?"

"Actually, no. I pick up a chair and smash it through a window and then I fall into a junk pile."

"That's... anti-climactic."

"Tell me about it," Sarah agreed. "Anyhow, that's how the dream is supposed to go. When I had it last night though I didn't smash the window. I turned around and we kept right on dancing until I woke up."

Amanda tilted her head. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Hot prince action isn't a bad thing in my book."

"I'm fifteen in the dream, you dork."

"Whatever." Amanda turned the mug in her hand. "So what does it mean?"

"What do you mean, what does it mean?"

"Well, if it's got you calling in sick and spending all day with your nose in Google I figure it means more than oh hey, Sarah wouldn't mind auditioning for the female lead in the adult version of Cinderella. Maybe it means something has changed. Maybe now you're ready to... dance."

"Spare me, Lucy van Pelt." Sarah snickered. "It's the guy in the dream I'm interested in. I'm trying to find out what he's supposed to be. Feel free to go amateur shrink on him if you like."

"Sure. What do we know about him? He's a prince. He's good looking. He likes to dance. He probably collects abandoned glass shoes."

Sarah leaned back on her chair. "He's an older man. Well, older than a Disney prince, I mean. He's about my age, mid-thirties, like, and he's dangerous. He's kind of fey. Like, not really human. Timeless. He can make your dreams come true but he can also turn your life into a living hell. He's the kind of guy – well, if he was Eve, he would tie a knot on the snake, eat the apple, and hump Adam up against the Tree."

"Mmm, a bad boy." Amanda smirked. "I bet you wish you could tame that bad boy. Or maybe not. I hate the stories where the bad boy turns into the girl's lapdog."

"I don't think he can be tamed. He's like a fairy from a really old legend. A force of nature. Sometimes he's generous, sometimes he's cruel, and there doesn't have to be a reason for either."

"Like Sparkly McTightpants?"

Sarah blinked. "Yeah, well, I've been having that dream for a long time. Hell, Rob used to call it unfair competition."

Amanda giggled. "Poor Rob. But okay, let me go all shrink for our entertainment. You've met someone who reminds you of your brat fairy teenage crush. Now you're all curious about what's going on in those dark corners of the ballroom and whether he'd like to play along." She waggled a finger at Sarah. "You're a naughty little girl, Sarah Williams. You were telling me it was Toby you worried about when you were really thinking about this guy in a Venetian waistcoat."

Sarah blushed and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Yes. It's true."

Her friend's smugness could have matched that of any fairytale king. "Well, then my advice stands. Invite the guy over and find out how deep that bad boy streak runs. Don't forget to ask if he's got any handsome and lonely bad boy buddies for little old me. I'll take anything that could have walked out of Lost Boys, just to stay in theme. Mm, Kiefer Sutherland..."

* * *

The King lounged in one of the windows that overlooked the Labyrinth. He occasionally glanced back at the ever-present goblin entourage, and smirked. Then went back to looking at whatever he was looking at. His subjects knew the dangers associated with brooding or sulking kings, but the little smile that kept dancing on his thin lips was not malicious. The King was amused.

A gloved hand whipped out and grabbed one goblin by the scruff of the neck, lifting it up to face level. "And what do you think you are doing, Truff?"

The goblin squirmed and tried to swallow, fast. "I's eating," it squeaked.

"You are eating Princess' food again, aren't you?"

"It's so tasty," the goblin defended itself. "It don't taste like cat none at all."

Jareth laughed and released the creature. It landed on the stone floor with a little thud, scampering away. He glanced at Muffle, currently doing a quite convincing impersonation of a ferret curled up in sleep, and laughed again. His pale eyes came to rest on the pig-faced, tow-headed Anastasia. "Come here," he said, patting his knee.

The goblin obediently hopped up and came to sit on one leather-clad knee. She wore a plastic hair clip, he noticed; it became her in an odd way. "Tell me, Anastasia, do you like being a goblin?"

The girl peered at her king. "Please don't frog me, Sire."

Jareth laughed again and picked the clip from the yellow hair. "Where did you steal this, I wonder. From a girl, perhaps? A girl who is not -ordinary-?"

Anastasia blushed and nodded. "Was a present."

He brushed her curls back and put the clip back in her hair. "You like her, hmm? Do you like her dream? You could be so much more."

The goblin shook her head. "I'm happy being a goblin, Sire."

* * *

Sarah peered into the kitchen cabinet and then grabbed Bikkit before she could scamper in. "Oh, no, you don't," she admonished the ferret. "It's bad enough that you steal socks, erasers, and anything else that isn't nailed down. I swear, I think you're part goblin. Now where the heck is your food." The ferret squirmed to be let down and Sarah offered it a dog biscuit to distract it from the open kitchen cabinet.

Bikkit grabbed it and squirmed harder until released. Then she took off like greased lightning to hide her treat under the sofa for later consumption and or hoarding. "And that, my dear, is why you only get dry food," Sarah called after her, laughing.

She rummaged. Figured that the goblins had gotten into the cabinets again. This time they had swiped several cans of soup, a box of bread sticks, and, inexplicably, the high protein kitten food that Bikkit ate. She would have to go grocery shopping in the morning. Sarah walked into her bedroom where Bikkit's cage was open as usual. The ferret hated being boxed up so she usually only was when Sarah was cleaning or had visitors with fur allergies.

Oh, the food bowl was almost full. Good, good. She checked the water bottle too and changed the t-shirt that Bikkit used for a nest to a clean one. Bikkit tried to make off with the old one, dragging it after her as she backed towards the wardrobe.

Sarah pursued the ferret. "You're not hiding that dirty thing with my shoes, you little monster!"

Bikkit did a triple eight backwards dance of defiance. Being a ferret she was not gifted with much in the terms of verbal communication. The little dook-dooks she spat out in between sproings were clearly an invitation to a chase that could end in a wrestling match, maybe even a tickle fight. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Sarah saw where she went as she dragged the t-shirt into the wardrobe.

"Oh, you're so dead," Sarah laughed and held on to the other end of the smelly shirt. She pulled at it, expecting a ferret to come sliding out amidst various shoes, refusing to let go. Surprisingly, the shirt came out on its own, accompanied only by one sandal.

"Bikkit! Come out and take your punishment like a weasel!" She peered into the wardrobe. A little scratching sound, and a sable tail tip disappearing into the back. Sarah grabbed for it. She was less surprised that she missed than that her hand continued -through- the wall of the wardrobe, as if it was some kind of illusion.

She sat back a moment. "So -that's- how they get in. Bikkit!"

Not a sound ensued from the wardrobe. Sarah sighed. Trust a ferret to find anything you wouldn't want a ferret to find. She got back on her feet, swearing. Way too soon. Forever would be way too soon. This wardrobe did not lead to Narnia.

Damnit. Sarah crossed the bedroom and sat down on the edge of her bed in front of the mirror. It was a large oval wall mirror that allowed a full figure view. She tapped it. "Hoggle?"

Magic touch, I has it. Sarah smirked as the surface of the mirror became foggy and then began to swirl, not unlike the surface of a pond after you toss a pebble into it. The fog lifted and became a window into a garden of hedges that wound in every direction between flower beds and the occasional decorative urn. With a gliding motion, like a camera zoom, the view tore towards the edge of the Labyrinth, settling on bushes that hugged its austere walls from the outside. A small figure sat on a rock with a fishing rod in one hand and a bottle next to him, a straw hat shading his eyes. He looked around himself and then looked up. "Whatcha want?"

Sarah smiled. "I need to talk, Hoggle."

"Been long enough," he grumped, not getting up. "You're in the wrong place."

"Yeah, I'm in my apartment. Sorry, I know you hate it when I use the wrong mirror," she apologised. "I can't risk any of the goblins finding out and you know how it is back at my parents' place."

The dwarf threw a suspicious glance upwards. "Whatever it is, I ain't done it."

"Nope, Toby did."

Another suspicious look. "Toby?"

"Afraid so. I'm not really sure how to deal with this, Hoggle. That's why I need your advice."

"Well, what's he gone and done, then?" Despite his gruff demeanour, Hoggle cared quite a bit for her brother.

Sarah rubbed her temple. "He's said things when he wasn't paying attention. Nothing direct, mind you, but little things. I think he's been talking to... him."

The dwarf froze, and then unfroze, to look around as if expecting someone to pop out of nowhere next to him at any second. "Oh, bugger." He paused, a suspicious look creeping across his face. "No way, Sarah. I ain't goin' in there again. Toby's a big boy, he can get himself out."

She shook her head. "No, no, it's not -that- bad. Thank god. But I need to know some things and none of the goblins are talking about those things."

Hoggle frowned. "So you want to know what His Royal Arsepain is up to, huh. Like he'd tell -me-."

"Yeah, I know, the two of you aren't exactly best friends."

"That's a bloody understatement. And I ain't goin' in there to ask him nothin' so don't bother tryin' to make me." He thumped the fishing rod against the ground decisively.

"No," Sarah agreed. "This is something I have to sort out myself. I just need some information."

The dwarf shot her a glower that could wither a fairy. "You're thinkin' of going back in," he accused. "You're out of your mind, you silly slip of a girl."

"Actually I was thinking of something you said before I even got into the Labyrinth. You said that if I ever got to the centre, I'd never find my way back out. What did you mean by that?"

"Huh. I were just tryin' to get you to go away. Not like you listened to me anyway. Not like you're gonna listen now." He threw the rod down and put his hands on his hips in a gesture that reminded her of someone else, not that she was going to point that out. "You go tell Toby to stay away from His Sparkliness if he knows what's good for him, that's what you do. And then you go and forget everything about that place 'cause it ain't good for either of you. That's what I'm sayin'."

"Hoggle," she asked. "You're not really a goblin, are you?"

He stared. "Do I look like a bloody goblin to you?"

Sarah laughed. "No, you don't. You look like – a lovable old grump. I love you, Hoggle."

He hrmphed. "Well, that's better. Now go do something useful with your life. Goodbye, Sarah."

The mirror fogged over again before taking on its usual appearance, reflecting her face back at her. "You look like a False Alarm, Hoggle," Sarah murmured.

* * *

Toby lounged on his bed. His feet were up the wall and his back and shoulders the wrong way, defying gravity. A number of textbooks spread out in front of his face on the pillow. He bobbed his head to the rhythm from his earphones, occasionally humming along with a phrase or particularly good riff. He had a yellow marker pen in one hand and every so often he underlined something on the page he was reading. In his concentration and self-induced indie rock trance he was completely unaware that he was being watched.

Jareth was careful to not attract the youth's attention with a sudden movement. He glanced at Toby's desk, a veritable mountain of books, notes, and game manuals. He tiptoed across the room and flicked the computer mouse with one leather-clad finger. The monitor had been showing a slide show of scantily clad, pointy-eared women and huge, burly creatures with armour and weaponry that defied just about every law of physics in existence. At his touch it went back to showing the desktop, and on it, the chat windows that the boy had left open.

"Leggylas said: you up for questing tonight? lots of love lol"

The King's lips formed the words silently. "I don't think so," he murmured and tapped the laptop once, twice with the tip of his riding crop. Then he was gone, leaving only a silent trail of faint, silvery moonlight behind.

  



	4. They're Related to Weasels, You Say?

Wind breaker, because the endless paths of the Labyrinth were both winding and windy. Sneakers, so she could run, check. Chocolate bars, because she might get hungry or run into goblins requiring bribes to keep quiet, check. Dog biscuits, to lure ferrets within grabbing distance, check. "Here goes," Sarah muttered and got down on all fours, facing her wardrobe.

The back end of her wardrobe looked solid when she closed her eyes and crawled forward, she did not hit the wall. Or rather, she did, literally. When Sarah opened her eyes again she found herself enshrouded in a kind of misty darkness with no real sign of what was up or down, left or right. She glanced over her shoulder – the light of her bedroom lamp shone dully through wisps of fog. It looked distant, even a little unreal. She looked ahead again. Another light shone through the mist. "That had better be a way out of here," she muttered to herself. Then she spotted a small pile of dog biscuits, half-heartedly covered with a single tennis sock that had once been white. "The dragon's hoard," she murmured. "Bikkit, when I find you I'm gonna make you wear a freaking collar with a bell on."

The light ahead grew stronger as she crawled towards it. It took on a rusty, sandy hue that Sarah associated with the memories of sandstone walls and dramatically wind torn sunsets of that other world. She counted to ten under her breath and then crawled into the light.

Of all the places Sarah had feared that she might end up, this was not it. She could have stumbled in through the wall to find herself in an oubliette. Fallen out of a tree amidst a gang of dancing fireys,. Crawled out from under the throne. Or even tumbled from above head first into the Bog. All these would have been bad. Finding herself in a broom closet was quite tame in comparison but also a lot more comfortable, all things considered. Not quite the return to the Underground that her sense of drama craved, perhaps, but at least cleaning utensils were not prone to try to take her head off.

Sarah scrabbled to her feet and out of the closet. She was in a hallway with a sandstone floor and several heavy oaken doors. A strange twilight seeped in from small windows along the walls. The castle, she reasoned, but not somewhere she had seen on her previous visit all those years ago. She dusted her jeans off and walked over to steal a glance through a window. The goblin city spread out below, looking every bit as chaotic as she remembered. Several large rocks still lay around where Ludo had tossed them. No one had thought to remove them or they had not felt like being removed, she figured. She was too high up to hear the noise from down there as the natives went about their usual chaotic business. Her inner artist cursed at her for not bringing a camera or a sketchpad.

"Hello!"

Sarah looked down on the window sill, not all that surprised at seeing a small, red worm with a fuzzy mane looking up at her. "Did you just say 'ello?"

"No, I said 'hello', but that's close enough."

She chuckled. "Let me guess. You guys greet visitors."

The worm beamed. "It's a job, lady. Shouldn't you be out there?" It craned its neck at the window.

"Actually I'm just here to find my ferret. She ran off into my wardrobe and came out here, I suppose. You wouldn't happen to have noticed a small furry animal run by a few minutes back?"

"Cor, no, I'm just a worm, lady. Reckon you might ask some of the goblins about it, though."

Sarah nodded. "And I have to ask you for directions, right?"

"Well, reckon you don't -'ave- to but it sure would be nice of you to do it. It being my job and all."

She grinned. "Left or right, then? Which way leads to certain doom?"

The worm gave her an odd look inasmuch a small red worm could. "Don't know about that, lady, but if you go left you'll be going into 'Is Majesty's private chambers."

"Definitely going right this time too, then. Thanks!"

"My pleasure! 'Ave a nice day!" The red-maned worm watched the woman trot away before sighing to itself. "She should be out -there-."

At the tender age of fifteen Sarah had run up the stairs to the Goblin Castle. Almost before she thought twice about it, she had burst into the throne room. She had raced up the stairs after ditching her friends and right into that crazy stair room and defeated the Goblin King. As she half walked, half ran down the long winded corridor now she was starting to realise just how unreal that had been. The place was -huge-. When she passed tall, arched windows she saw soaring spires and bridges interconnecting them. Steep drops to courtyards and private gardens far, far below. Buckingham Palace or even the Versailles had nothing on the castle beyond the Goblin City.

Sarah stopped flat and slapped her forehead. "Doh!"

The red worm had not told her, obviously, because she had been told already. Twenty years ago, she had running along a path of rotting vines and branches that went on forever. There were plenty of openings into the Labyrinth proper, she was just not seeing them. If things were still working that way...

She called Bikkit to her mind's eye. The small pink nose, the black eyes with a faint outline of dark blue. White ears that looked a bit like those of a puppy just born. Her arched back and her movements. Sometimes sproinging like a slinky, sometimes sneaking on the top of the claws like a furry snake in the grass. The white markings in her face that made her appear to be wearing a tiny burglar's mask like a cartoon weasel. Her slightly spicy scent. "Where are you, Bikkit," she murmured and opened the nearest door.

Twenty years' time to think about her experiences, and Sarah still had no idea how the Underground worked. Particularly not when one was an uninvited 'guest' of the realm's enigmatic king. She remembered the 'nothing is as it seems' verdict quite well. Even so, there were certain things one should feel safe to expect to find in a large, medieval-ish castle. This room was not one of those things. It was in fact completely empty.

"You will not find anything in there," a voice commented.

She turned around and came knee to faces with a two-headed creature resembling garish blue German Shepherd dog, albeit with two heads. "You're not dreaming, after all," its other head noted.

"I'm supposed to be picking up my ferret," Sarah said. "Have you seen her? She looks kind of like a weasel or rat but with a furry tail and she's always investigating everything."

Two heads tilted quizzically, in separate directions. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?" one asked. "Followed a goblin home?" the other inquired.

Sarah nodded. "Kind of. My ferret found some kind of portal or gateway of the goblins', and I followed her here. My name is Sarah. I really don't want to be a problem, I just want to find Bikkit and get out of here."

"She can see the goblins," one head informed the other.

"Must have been here before," the other nodded. "I'm Pish. He's Tosh. Nice to meet you, Sarah. Are you lost?"

Sarah paused and then gave the blue dog a second look. "Oh, I get it. You're guides, right?"

Tosh sniffed. "The best."

"You've been doing your homework," Pish said approvingly.

Sarah tugged at one sleeve. "So, if you two are guides that means I have to ask you to take me somewhere. Okay. Can you take me to Bikkit?"

"We sure can," Pish beamed.

Tosh sniffed the floor. "Funny smell, really. They're related to weasels, you say?"

* * *

Karen knocked on the door once, twice. When no response came from her son on the other side she pushed it open. Toby sprawled on his bed, reading, and the reason that he failed to acknowledge her was the thumping music in his earphones. She reached to the ipod on the nightstand and tapped the Pause button.

He looked up in surprise that quickly became an insulted puppy dog look. "Mom!"

"It's seven, Toby. You wanted me to remind you of the time, honey."

"Oh. Coolness, I'd totally lost track. What's for dinner?"

She laughed and left the room. He followed like a puppy indeed – that is, a puppy drawn by sheer animal magnetism to the wonders of the dinner table. "Curry."

"Yum!"

His father grunted a cordial mumble to his son as he drew out a chair. His mother began to spoon up rice and sweet curry with raisins and apricots and chicken bits for both her men. Toby dug in with the voracious appetite of a young man. "This is good!" he announced and stuffed his face.

"Thank you, dear. How is your homework coming along?"

Toby poured apple juice for himself. "Oh, it's fine, just doing some revising and stuff. I'm meeting Leggy tonight so I figured I better get ahead while the getting was good and the house was quiet."

Karen nodded. "Leggy. That's just not a proper name for a girl."

"Well, her real name is Sharon."

"And will we ever meet this elusive – Sharon?" Robert inquired.

"Probably."

Karen exchanged glances with her husband and chuckled. "It's the way they do it nowadays, Robert. I'm sure that to them, this is just as romantic as it was for us when we'd spend all night next to the phone wondering if he would call."

"She," her husband corrected good-naturedly. "And I'd be the one trying to find the nerve to call."

"Yes, for you," Karen quipped. "For me, it was definitely a he. A very handsome he. Even had his own car. My parents hated him, he'd keep me out way too late when we were on a date."

"Too much information," both males replied, on cue.

* * *

The dog trotted along at an easy pace that Sarah found it easy to keep up with, as long as she did not stop to consider her surroundings. Its bushy blue tail wagged; if this canine was akin to its Aboveground counterparts, it was enjoying itself. Or themselves; the two-headed thing took some getting used to. Now and then it stopped in front of heavy, oaken doors and both heads would toss her questioning looks.

"No," Sarah said for the third time. "Guys, I really appreciate it but I'm not here for a bouquet of epiphanies."

"What else is life?" Pish asked philosophically. "Oh, here's the trail."

"Looks like your ferret started off with hiding its treat in His Majesty's rooms somewhere and then went off to explore," Tosh agreed. "I'm picking up a lot of chicken fantasies. Do ferrets eat chickens?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. If they can catch them. Gosh damn."

Pish gave her a blue look. "Something bothering you?"

Sarah kept her expression neutral. "Not as bothered as His Majesty is going to be if he finds a half-eaten chicken in his sock drawer, I suspect."

Pish and Tosh chuckled, baring white canines. It trotted through a doorway and onto a balustraded walkway overlooking one of the castle gardens. The scent of lilacs in bloom hit her nose hard, rising from a grove beneath, draped in more shades of purple than she would have been able to name. The scene was notquite-real, like a painting by Monet. All the colours and all the light was there. Working in finr details would draw away from the impression of the whole. The view was, for a lack of a more suitable term – dreamy. Sarah froze. The garden was not unoccupied. There, amidst the flowering trees, reclined a figure she remembered too well.

He was asleep; an open book lay on his chest where slumber had dropped it. Dappled patterns of sunlight danced across his pale, delicate features as the light filtered through the lilacs. There was nothing imposing or majestic about him as he lay in the grass, dressed in boots, grey breeches, and a ruffled white shirt. A lock of blond hair had fallen into his face. He looked peaceful, content to drift in whatever dream had taken him. She ached to whip out a sketchbook and capture this moment of quiet bliss for eternity. Having none she settled for committing each detail to memory.

A soft nuzzle at her hand drew her back to reality – for a given value of reality – and she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She looked away from the garden below; the dog heads were nudging at her to move.

"Time to move on," Pish said softly.

"Sarah felt a pang of regret. "Let's go find that damn ferret."

  



	5. Inevitabilities

Toby resisted the urge to slam his head into the keyboard a few times in frustration. He called Sarah's number up on his cellphone but there was no answer. He checked downstairs but Robert was using the dinosaur that passed for a computer, working on a spreadsheet. A Lotus spreadsheet, of all things archaic.

Truff peeked up at him from his dresser. "What's wrong?"

The youth shot the goblin an ominous look. "My monitor's on the fritz and I have no way of letting Leggy know I won't be on tonight, that's what."

The little creature tilted his head. "Want to play checkers?"

"Actually I'd like for Dad to go to bed or something so I can log on and message her why I'm not there. I wish I had her number, I could just friggin' call her."

"Bad Toby!" That was Anastasia, peeking out from a bookshelf.

"Aw heck," he groaned. "I didn't mean it. Well, I did but not like that."

"Sarah says no wishing!" the blonde goblin scolded, then peered. "Why don't you have it?"

He sighed. "She says she's not ready to talk to me in real life yet. You got to be careful who you give out your number to on the Internet, Anastasia."

"Why?"

"There's all kinds of nutjobs out there."

Anastasia giggled. "Like kids who believe in goblins?"

Toby could not resist a smile even if it ruined his perfectly good sulk. "Yeah, well, goblins seem to believe in me too." He threw himself on the bed and tried to dial Sarah once more. No answer. Something jingled. He turned his head to spot Truff going through the pockets of his jacket and waving his keyring.

Toby slapped his forehead. "Come on, guys, let's go visit Sarah."

Both goblins grinned. Truff stayed in his pocket as he pulled the jacket on; Anastasia hitched a ride on his shoulder. It didn't bother Toby to walk through the house with two goblins. He knew full well that neither parent could see the little creatures. His mother would sometimes joke that the old Victorian house surely was haunted. His father ignored the daily onslaught of random chaos that stemmed from living in a house with a passage to the Underground in one room. He helped Anastasia fasten the seat belt in his old pickup and began to drive.

"You like that girl very much?" Anastasia asked.

"Oh hell yeah," Toby grinned. "She games, we like the same TV shows, and we both love Thai food. She's perfect."

"I bet she snores," Anastasia pouted.

He shot the goblin a glance. "Don't think I've forgotten how you guys harassed Leyla. That's another reason I'm in no rush to bring this girl home. I don't want her to run away screaming."

Anastasia at least had the decency to look guilty.

* * *

Sarah held up the wriggling ferret in one hand while trying to dust flour off her with the other. Bikkit was not too excited about the white stuff in her nose but she tried to catch Sarah's other hand. She showed no remorse for the havoc she had wrought. In the larder, every jar and its contents had been rearranged in an elaborate mess of ferret feng shui.

"Don't worry about it," Pish said in response to the frustrated expression on Sarah's face.

"Nothing stays the same here long anyhow," Tosh agreed. "Do you want to go home now?"

Sarah kept a firm grip on her pet. "Yes, please. I owe you two big time for helping me get around. Is there anything I can do in return?"

Tosh shot her a canine grin. "We're just doing our jobs."

"But if you should happen to lose a spare box of those biscuits the ferret likes into the portal," Pish added.

Sarah grinned and nodded. "Definitely. I have to go back and find the portal in the corridor now, right?"

Pish shrugged one blue-furred shoulder. "We can send you home."

Tosh shrugged the other shoulder. "Off you go. Remember the biscuits!"

Sarah was reminded of the end of her previous visit Underground that night so long ago as she felt herself falling. The larder fell to pieces like so much shattered glass around her. Reality asserted itself, taking the familiar shape of her living room. Something crackled under her feet and as she glanced down tiny bits of crystal faded into the carpet. She let go of a deep breath and looked around to be certain she was really back –

"What. The. Hell?"

– and spotted Toby sitting at her kitchen table behind the computer, gaping at her with an expression like an oxygen deprived goldfish.

Bikkit wriggled. Sarah released the flour-covered ferret and watched it make a beeline for the sofa. Feeling disoriented, the little predator's first choice was to hide, then assess the situation. As the last powdery tidbits of crystal faded around her, Sarah resisted an odd urge to join the ferret.

"You've got to be kidding," Toby said, still gaping.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

The youth blinked and picked up his jaw. "My computer's dead. I needed to message someone so I figured I'd let myself in and borrow yours real quick."

"Oh."

"You don't mind, right?"

"No," Sarah replied and tried to dust flour off her wind breaker. "It's fine. God, I need coffee."

"Yeah, me too." Toby shut the lid on on the laptop and stood. "That was one hell of a dramatic entry."

"I try," she murmured with heavy sarcasm. "Look, it's not what it seems like, Toby."

He tilted his head as he filled the coffee maker with water. "Oh, good. 'Cause it sure looked like one of His Nibs' glitter poofs to me."

Sarah flopped down on a chair and kicked off her sneakers. "We need to talk. And before you start getting snippy I could ask how you'd even know that in the first place."

Toby paused, and then nodded. "Yeah. I think we do need to talk, Sis."

She slipped out of the wind breaker, leaving a trail of flour that unfortunately did not fade away. "Bikkit found a portal and took off through it. I had to get her back. I went through, met a guide, and got back out before anything else could happen. She was in a larder, flour bathing."

Toby stared. "You went Underground?"

"I'm not planning to do it again. I'm locking that wardrobe from now on. If the goblins want in here they'll have to learn to poof or knock."

The youth sat down after turning the coffee maker on. He ran a hand through his blonde curls. "Yeah, it's just – it's always been rule number one, you know? No playing Alice. No following the white rabbit. Don't go to Narnia."

Sarah felt fatigue settle over her at last. "Yeah, I know. I would have asked one of the goblins to bring her back. To be honest I wasn't sure any of them would remember what I'd asked it to do. I adore the little gremlins but they're not exactly good with staying focused."

Toby glanced around; as no protests came forth from anywhere he looked relieved. "Truff and Anastasia are here somewhere. I think they went to nap in your bedroom, though."

Sarah nodded. "Good. Right. Toby. When were you planning to tell me about -him-?"

Her brother sighed and checked on the coffee maker. It was not quite done yet. "Okay, remember what it was like when we were kids? We had a wonderful secret. I had the best playmates ever. I had goblins where other kids had beanie babies. It was awesome, except that everyone kept telling me about this one guy that I was never to talk about or even think about." Toby sighed. "I was a -kid-."

"Oh, you didn't," Sarah murmured.

He looked guilty. "Of course I did, I was curious. One day I was upset about something."

"You wished yourself away." She groaned.

Toby shook his head. "Nah, nothing that bad, Sis. I did pay attention to you and the Hogster sometimes, you know. I just wished I could talk to the guy. I was pouty and curious and I told myself I'd be grumpy too if everyone else was having fun and I couldn't join in. He told me not to tell anyone, not even the gang, because people would freak out. He made me promise. He's not so bad once you get to know him, though. I'm not in any danger."

"Let me get this straight, Tobes. You've been seeing the Goblin King since you were a kid. Even when you were old enough to find out the true story of what happened that night, what he was going to do to you. You know how -dangerous- he is, we've all told you a thousand times."

Something dark flickered across the youth's face. "Yeah, that's about it. Except the bit where everyone makes the guy out to be Darth Vader without knowing jack about his side of the story."

"I'm sure he was happy to tell you," Sarah quipped.

"All he ever said about that is that you won the game and to leave it alone." Toby sat back on his chair, relaxing. "Anyway. I know you'd go Sarah Connor on the Underground if you thought I was in trouble, Sis, but you don't need to. I'm fine."

Sarah poured coffee and grabbed a pack of crackers as well. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. You're a big boy, Tobes, and you're obviously still -here-."

The youth stole a cracker. "How'd you find out anyway?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "It wasn't all that hard, Toby. You quote the man sometimes. 'Nothing, tra la la?' Knowing what a – what did you call it, a glitter poof? – looks like."

He blushed. "Truth is, I haven't even been talking much to anyone from the Underground lately. I've been six kinds of busy with school and World of Warcraft and Sharon. It's kinda ironic, you catch me -now-."

Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, well. One hint for you, bro. Don't take date advice from the Goblin King."

* * *

That night Sarah dreamed again. She heard the clock strike and turned away from the dance, slipping from his grasp. She ran to the edge of the crystal bubble that contained her dream. Her hand wandered to the chair that would break the illusion. Then she turned back again to face the man who stood where she had left him, surrounded by masked dancers. A small smile fluttered across his thin lips; then he raised one gloved hand and held it out to her.

Sarah glanced at the window again. Her fifteen year old self stared back at her, large and frightened moss green eyes under an elaborate fairytale hairdo that sparkled with pearls and silver. She looked back at the King. Then she shot a glare at the masked dancers currently crowding her and jabbed an elbow into corseted ribs before walking back to slide into the dance with him again. He murmured something to her but like the previous night, she could not make out the words.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You need to stop doing this," she told the sequined blue velvet.

* * *

Toby rummaged through his locker, fishing out a textbook he was going to need later in the day and unloading a couple of others. He checked on his appearance in the small mirror on the inside of the locker's metal door and ran a hand through his curls before nodding to himself. He picked up his coat, already half-turning to walk away when he spotted the blonde man leaning against the wall. Arms crossed and one leg drawn up under him so that the sole of his heeled boot rested on the metal. The Goblin King was not a man who simply knocked and entered. His talent for dramatics was, in Toby's opinion, as out of proportion as his taste in clothing.

But then, it had been like that from the first time they met. He had been eight years old and upset with his older sister over something he could not even remember anymore. He had swiped her make-up mirror and run off into the garden to his secret place and said The Name out of spite. He had curled up and cried a bit about the unfairness of life and older siblings in general, until he had felt a gloved hand on his hair. He had nearly screamed like a girl. Mustering all his manly and eight year old pride, he had managed to just blurt out, "You're him!"

The blonde man with the strange eyes had knelt down next to him so that they were face to face. "You did call upon me," he had pointed out in his funny accent. "What are you upset about?"

Having his own secret friend had been awesome. Other grownups were boring. Other grownups asked about school and whether he had brushed his teeth after dinner. Toby had not understood why Sarah and Hoggle were so adamant about the King being bad and dangerous. He had a wicked sense of humour but they had never done anything together that was actually harmful. Not while Toby was a child and not after he had become a teenager, either. He had cried to Jareth about his first crush. The hedgehog in her bag had been his own idea. Offering to carry her bag home until the quill sores on her hands had healed was Jareth's idea, though. It had earned Toby his first kiss. He had bragged about it for hours. He had discovered that girls could be interesting. Most boys struggled with the onslaught of hormones and the alien country that was girl thinking. He had had a friend who knew exactly what the girls wanted. Toby had taken advantage, becoming quite the little man about town.

The dramatic entrances had been a constant. Jareth was probably dramatic about taking a shower or doing the dishes. It was just the way he was. Sly, regal, sarcastic, prone to theatrics, and occasionally more than a bit childish. If anything was to blame for Toby spending less time with the King these days, that streak of immaturity was it. There was more to life than fun and games. He was reaching an age where getting serious about a girl and his future started to look appealing.

"I will -never- get used to the dramatic entrances," Toby muttered. "Hello, Jareth."

The King inclined his head, ever regal. "Toby."

The youth shrugged into his coat. "Glamour?" He waved a hand in the general direction of the older man, indicating his odd-fashioned attire, breeches, riding boots, and glittery frock coat. Others might not notice anything unusual about him at all.

"Of course. I need for you to do me a favour."

"Sure? Depending on what you need. You're the one with the magic," Toby grinned.

"Yes," he replied crisply. "The magic that cannot penetrate one specific residence."

Toby stole a look at the fey face. He was smiling. Not a sardonic smile, either, but an amused one. "What do you want me to do?"

Jareth raised a hand as if to inspect his fingernails through the leather glove. "Oh, nothing much. Just leave a door open. Well?"

"I don't know. Sarah was pretty pissed off about that stunt you pulled with the painting. How did you do that anyhow, what, with being unable to do magic in her place?"

"She has to leave her home to go to work."

"You tampered with the zip disk in her bag? Sneaky."

"Why, thank you."

Toby stretched. "She knows about you and me. I must have been careless. I hope you're not too miffed about that."

Jareth hitched a shoulder. "It was inevitable."

"Yeah, well. I'm glad you're not angry about it," Toby smiled; angry Jareth was a caustic experience. "So what is this, payback for her sneaking around your place last night?"

Blue eyes of slightly different hues sparkled with mischief. "You could say that."

"Okay. What door are we talking about and what are you going to do?"

The Goblin King tsk'ed. "Such distrust."

"Yeah, well. Sarah doesn't exactly trust you. I'm all for a joke but I'm not getting into some private vendetta between you two. As far as she's concerned you're a baby snatching monster."

"I am, aren't I?" Jareth laughed. "It's really quite high time to change her perception of me, don't you think? You have my word, Toby, I mean her no harm."

  



	6. Glitter Me Up, Scotty

Will studied the sketch that Sarah had laid out for him after checking it for unexpected changes. "I like it," he said at length. "It's not the same model as the first though?"

Sarah shook her head. "I decided to make some changes. Vampires are supposed to be young and immortal and all that, so I wanted a more twenty-ish look. The black hair worked better with the background too."

Her editor nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty good, actually. Did you use a picture reference for the clothes?"

"Yep. Eighteenth century Venetian. I figured there might be a history buff out there somewhere."

Will grinned. "I like it. It's more Anne Rice than the original but that's fine. The masks on the wall are a nice touch of duplicity. Very suggestive. When can you have the finished piece ready?"

Sarah grinned back. "Give me a few days. I'm still a bit under the weather."

"That's fine. Are you having lunch with Amanda today?"

"Actually I was going to take off early, do some grocery shopping and go home and hide in bed," Sarah smiled. "I feel like I haven't slept at all last night."

Will stroked his chin. "Ah. Did I tell you to drink cranberry juice?"

She rolled the sketch up and put it in her bag. "Yep. See you later, Will."

* * *

Grocery shopping was reduced to an absolute minimum. Big box of dog biscuits for Pish and Tosh, high protein kitten food for Bikkit. Dark bread, a slab of cheddar cheese, milk, and a couple of other necessities. Nothing extravagant or time consuming; Sarah just wanted to go home. She was emotionally exhausted as if she had, say, spent the entire night dancing with a fairytale king.

Once back in her apartment Sarah put the groceries away and showered. She switched into track pants and an old t-shirt to curl up on her sofa under a blanket. She tried reading for a while but eventually she had to accept that her mind was drifting back to those dreams. Back to the scene she had spied on amidst the lilacs. He had looked so peaceful. She wondered what he had been saying as they danced. Maybe next time she should dream up a notepad and a pencil. The resulting mental image of His Glittery Highness writing notes like a boy in class made her giggle.

Her mind drifted again. Her speed-talking brother dropped in every other day to bum dinner and some peace and quiet in which to study. He had his own key and Sarah did not blame him for using it. He had a keen mind but even the most disciplined academic could study only so hard in a house routinely invaded by goblins, fairies, and the occasional fiery. Toby did not remember his involuntary visit to the Underground as a toddler. He had still retained the ability to see its residents as he aged.

When he had grown old enough to talk, Sarah and Hoggle had taken turns drilling it into the boy's head. Never to talk about the goblins and other creatures to other people. Never, ever use the words 'I wish'. A few years after that she had told him a shortened version of what had happened during those thirteen hours. It had involved the words 'our little secret' a good many times. She had not told him how he had ended up swished away to the Underground until he was a teenager. She picked a time when he had just returned from babysitting Mrs Douglas next door's two toddlers. Toby had been quite willing to agree that yes, there were times when you wished that goblins – or any other merciful entity within earshot – would take the kids away. But you did not -really- mean it.

A scrapey, knocking kind of noise pulled Sarah from her reverie. She hopped off the sofa to open the door to her bedroom before a goblin decided to chew through it. A small series of thuds ensued as Elmo fell off the bed and bounced around. Anastasia waved hello from her vanity table. Assorted pieces of jewellery and make-up were laid out for the tow-headed goblin's perusal.

"Hi, Sarah!"

The wardrobe was open. Sarah spun and looked towards Bikkit's cage, moved into the living room. It was blatantly ferret free.

"This is not happening," she told herself. "Anastasia! Close that door and help me find Bikkit!"

Elmo looked confused as he was shoved out of the way and the wardrobe door firmly closed. Then, helpfully, he crawled in under the bed.

Sarah picked up the treat box and rattled it in the hope that Bikkit was in the mood for begging or stealing. "How did you two get in? I closed that door."

Anastasia peered at her from the vanity. "It was open, Sarah."

"I know I closed it this morning before I let Bikkit out. She found your portal."

"It will come back," Anastasia said and reached for the darkest red lipstick.

Sarah slumped. "Unless she gets lost. Crap. I'm going to have to go and find her, aren't I."

Neither goblin replied. Anastasia was busy trying to apply the lipstick and Sarah could not see Elmo's wide grin under the bed.

Sarah checked everywhere. She checked under the kitchen sink twice, given Bikkit's penchant for hiding her hoard of stolen erasers there. Both goblins were happy to help rummaging around but their attention spans were short. Sarah had to remind them both several times what they were doing. She recovered several missing pencils, woollen socks with holes chewed in, and half-eaten biscuits in the search. The little thief was nowhere in sight. Eventually, she resigned herself to her fate. She put on her sneakers, packed the dog biscuits into her wind breaker, swallowed two headache pills and got ready to traverse the dimensions. Also known as crawling on hands and knees through her wardrobe.

The fog was the same as on her first venture. She crawled towards the light in the distance, entertaining fantasies about shaving ferrets with a dull razor. Bikkit was after all just doing what ferrets did best: Getting into places where they did not belong. It was with relief that Sarah crawled out of the broom closet, recognising the corridor on the other side.

Time moved at another scale in the Underground, that much she knew. Now was night; the hallway was void of light. Sarah spent a moment or two wondering whether goblins had night vision like cats. Then she got on her feet and looked at the window sills for welcome wagon worms. They were empty but for a few wispy rays of moonlight that allowed her to at least make out their contours. The Goblin City below was quiet. She peered down the hallway to the right. It was dark.

A crisp, tinkling noise rang out at her feet. She looked down, and froze. A crystal orb, about the size of a child's fist, rolled past her and slowly came to a rest a few meters ahead. It gave off a faint glow.

Several options went through Sarah's mind. Running like all heck was one. Screaming was definitely another. Counting to ten and pretending not to have seen the damn thing, that would work too. The problem with all three was that they would only postpone the inevitable. She picked option number four and turned around. Might as well face the music.

He was leaning against the frame of one of the oaken doors, arms crossed. The white and tan owl feathers of the cloak fell to the mid-calves of soft leather boots, and the sparkling blue-gray eyes were focused on her. The man was out of her world. Literally.

"Well, well. Look what the ferret dragged in." His voice was every bit as silky as she remembered.

Something wriggled on his arm. Bikkit!

"You come looking for this little lady, I presume?" He scratched the ferret's ear with one gloved finger. She nipped at the pale grey leather.

Against her better judgement Sarah blurted out, "You're a ferret snatcher now?"

He stared at her for a split second. Then he laughed, a soft, rippling sound, and circled around her. She circled along, maintaining eye contact as he – and Bikkit – remained just outside of arm's reach. He was not as tall as she remembered him to be, standing only an inch or two taller than her adult self. In her memories he had towered over her. "Am I?" he asked. "I am what you make me."

Bikkit enjoyed his touch, Sarah noticed. "I'm starting to think that she's been here more than once before."

"Oh yes, quite often. Rather an inquisitive little thing, isn't she?" His gaze wandered up and down her. "You have changed quite a bit."

Sarah felt self-conscious in her sweat pants and t-shirt. "We call it growing up."

He stepped towards, more than a bit too close for comfort but not actually touching her. Bikkit hopped from his arm onto hers. Her fingers curled into the ferret's fur, holding it tight, as the King reached up to tip her chin upwards. "Tell me, Sarah, are you still afraid of me?"

She looked him straight in the mismatched eyes. "What do you think, Goblin King?"

"Humour me," he purred.

Sarah resisted the urge to back up against the wall. "All right. Yes, I'm afraid of you. I don't know what the hell you are but I'm in no doubt that you could mess my life up if you put your heart into it. But you've had twenty years to get on my case so I don't think you really intend to. As long as the worst you get up to is sending me silly ballroom dreams I'll deal."

"What dreams are those?"

"The ballroom dreams. We are dancing. You try to tell me something but I can't hear what you're saying."

His eyes sparkled as he dropped his hand and stepped back, allowing her to restore the sanctity of her personal space. "Interesting. I am flattered that you remember me so fondly, Sarah, but I assure you that those dreams are none of my doing."

She shot him what she hoped was a defiant look. "I don't exactly know a lot of other people who are capable of inspiring dreams like that."

His crooked grin made her realise what she had just said. "Why, thank you. I assure you that if I were to do such a thing, you would be in no doubt about my intentions in said dreams."

Bikkit wriggled, bored. Sarah glanced down. "Right. I think this is where I leave."

"Allow me." He offered her his hand.

She looked at it. Well, it was a nice hand, covered in pale grey leather with tan trimmings.

"If you prefer crawling through a wardrobe, who am I to argue?" he teased.

Sarah grabbed hold of the King's sleeve with a snort. "Fine. Glitter me up, Scotty."

The world fell down, as when Pish and Tosh sent her home the previous night but with a more dream-like quality. It was like a mirror shattering, filmed in slow motion through thin gauze. The crystal pieces fell away to reveal something as mundane as her living room. Trust the Goblin King to be an artist even about dispatching her from his realm.

* * *

"Oh, now you gone and done it, Missy," Hoggle growled. "Can't leave well enough alone, can ya?"

Sarah sat cross-legged in her bed, looking at her friend in the mirror. She was still wearing the sweat pants and t-shirt but sue had kicked her sneakers off. She had also made herself tea and a sandwich before calling upon the dwarf. Bikkit was snoozing in her cage with the ever-pristine conscience granted by two minute short term memory. "I've done what, Hoggle?"

"Don't you be takin' that innocent tone with me," he admonished, waggling a finger at her. "You went and gone through, you did. I can feel it."

"Yeah, I did. And you know what? Nothing happened. I got back out just fine both times."

"Both times?" he echoed. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"Hoggle, I love you to bits and pieces, but is it even remotely possible that maybe, just maybe, you're overreacting a bit?" Sarah felt an odd sense of elevation still.

The dwarf on the other side of the mirror snorted. Then he gave her a closer look-over. "You seen the King." It was not a question.

"Yeah. Turns out my damn ferret has been making a habit out of going exploring in fairyland."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing. Honest, Hoggle, nothing. He handed Bikkit over and sent me home. That's it. Maybe he was busy, maybe he just can't be arsed. It's been twenty years." Sarah sipped her tea and took a bite out of her sandwich. Mm, pastrami.

The small man rolled his eyes. "He's a rat."

"Rats have a very unfair reputation," Sarah pointed out. "I had this friend in college who had a white pet rat. She was kind of cute, actually. Very cuddly. The rat, not my friend."

Hoggle rolled his eyes again, exasperated. "You know what rats do, Sarah? They survive. You set traps and lay poison, the rats, they just figure it out and go on doin' what they do. Ain't no getting' rid of 'em, best as you can hope for is makin' 'em go bother someone else. Don't you be encouraging the Royal Rat to stick around. He ain't – cuddly."

She finished chewing. "I wasn't exactly planning on asking him for a snuggle."

* * *

Sarah's elevated mood lasted through the next day. She cracked thank god it's Friday jokes with her co-workers without sharing in their tiredness, and had lunch with Amanda. She left for home, whistling old pop tunes to herself. She was on all fours on the floor picking out abandoned toys and half-eaten biscuits from under the sofa when Toby let himself in.

"Heya, Sis," he called out and went to raid her fridge. "Good mood?"

"Hell yeah," Sarah wondered what strange compulsion causes ferrets to steal and bury erasers like their furry little lives depend on how many they manage to stash.

Toby made himself a giant peanut butter sandwich. "Spill! What's the occasion?"

Sarah laughed and sat up, dusting off her shirt and admiring her pile of retrieved loot. "You're not going to believe it, Tobes. I went back Underground."

"Okay...?"

"I kinda had to. Bikkit found out how the goblins get in through my damn wardrobe, and well, she's a ferret. I had to go get her back out. Turns out the little minx thinks of the Underground as her personal play pen. Figures, really."

"Wardrobe?" Toby looked a bit dumbfounded.

"Yeah. Like in Narnia, but without the lion and the witch." Sarah got up and stretched before putting her liberated erasers away.

"Okay," Toby said again, and took a big bite of his peanut butter sandwich.

She put on coffee. "You have no idea what a big load off my shoulders this is."

Toby nodded, speaking with his mouth full. "Yeah, I figure I do, Sis. You and the Hogster have been way worried about that forever. So, did you talk to His Nibs?"

"Briefly. Very briefly. He handed Bikkit over and sent me home, nothing more. But that's sure as heck preferable to a lot of other things he could have done if he was still pissed."

Toby grinned. "Oh yeah. So what are you gonna do to keep Bikkit from running off again?"

Sarah hitched a shoulder. "She's a ferret. She'll find a way. Besides, I think he doesn't mind her running around. He held her and she didn't seem bothered in the slightest. I could move her cage in here and keep the bedroom door locked but then I'd have to go let the goblins in and out all the time. If he doesn't mind her, I don't really mind her running off, either."

"I don't think he minds," Toby said. He sat down on a kitchen chair while licking peanut butter off his fingers. "Except the bit where she thinks the foot end of his bed belongs to her. He's complained about toe biting once or twice."

Sarah had to laugh out loud at the mental image of the Goblin King threatening to toss a certain ferret head first into the Bog of Eternal Stench if it didn't let go of his foot. She poured extra milk in her coffee to take the brunt off the caffeine.

"Mind if I use your laptop a bit? I really want to talk to Leggy and the new graphics card for my 'puter hasn't arrived yet."

"Nah, go ahead. I need to do some sketching sometime but I can do that on paper if you're not done."

Toby flipped up the lid of the laptop and hit the power button. While waiting for the computer to chug through the motions of opening Windows and Firefox he peered over at the sketchpad his sister was taking out. "What are you working on, anyway?"

"Mm, nothing much. I still have a few finishing touches to do on the fairy series. Will wanted something autumnal for the November one so I'm going to work in some maple leaves for the colour scheme." Sarah sharpened her trusty No. 2 pencil.

"Myeah." Toby was distracted by the pling pling sounds of MSN being ready and listing on-line contacts. He began to type, lost to the world.

  



	7. Is She Supposed to be Blue?

Toby pulled his old pickup over at the small park near his parents' house. He kicked at a few pebbles on the path before coming to rest on the small bridge crossing the brook. He rested his elbows on the railing and glowered into the water below as if looking for something in the depths. The water was as non-informative as were the stars of the dark night sky overhead. Some people would have looked up at the sound of wings and pointed out the white owl that glided on the night wind. Toby failed to react even as the nocturnal bird of prey vanished in a glittery ripple of magic. It became the human shape of the Goblin King standing next to him on the bridge. The otherworldly visitor leaned his elbows on the railing, mirroring the youth's posture.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," Toby said at length, keeping his eyes on the swirling water. "Figured you'd be busy."

Jareth arched an eyebrow. "My, my, someone's in a bad mood."

Toby pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. It's just..." He looked up from the water at the man next to him. "I'm a little worried about Sarah, and my girlfriend is driving me insane."

"Sarah seemed well enough. Tell me about the girlfriend."

"Meh. She still won't give me her number. It's like she thinks I'm some kind of stalker." Toby sighed. "I'm starting to feel like that joke is real, you know. You find out that the hot chick you've been chatting to is really some forty year old nerd living in his mother's basement."

The King tapped a gloved finger against his lips. "I see. I wonder what secrets Sharon might keep."

Toby shot him a hopeful look.

Jareth smirked. "Come, come, Toby. You do realise how many women named Sharon there are in this world? I will need something of hers. Bring me something that belonged to her or was made by her, and I will see what I can do."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a piece of cake," Toby muttered, slumping. "I can't get her number so I ask her to send me her favourite teddy bear instead. Maybe I could ask her to knit me a sweater and mail it with no return address."

"Tch. What makes this girl different from the others?"

"I'm not sure," Toby admitted. "It's just the way she is. We just click. I feel like I could tell her anything."

"Anything?"

"Yeah, well, anything except things no one else can see. She'd think I was crazy."

"Quite likely. Ask her to draw your game personas together."

"What?"

"Oh, do pay attention," he snapped. " Ask her to draw what she thinks this – Leggylas – person looks like and then show you the drawing online."

Toby put the pieces together. "Because she would have made it. I can save the image and give it to you. Jareth, you're so the man."

The King did not challenge that statement.

* * *

Family dinners took place on Sundays. Sarah had a standing invitation which at one time had also included her then husband Rob. She enjoyed going to her parents' and part-taking of her stepmother's excellent cooking. It was easy to get a little lazy when you lived alone. Cut back a bit on the grocery shopping or get distracted by painting or reading and end up with a sandwich for dinner. Family dinner was yummy, solid and well made, and Karen was a wizard in the kitchen.

Family dinner was also a way for the Williamses to catch up on the week's events together. Sarah had no intention of discussing her two visits to another world with her father and Karen, blind even to the goblins residing in their own house. She was happy to share office gossip and receive the same in return. Mrs. Kincaid's daughter up the street had a new boyfriend who rode an awfully noisy motorbike. One of her father's co-workers was getting married next month. He was already dreading the interviews for her replacement as young people grew dumber and more dependent every year. Toby dutifully objected to that, in his capacity of being the youngest person present.

Dessert was consumed, and it was indeed an excellent blueberry pie, and the men retired to the living room while the women did the dishes. Sarah's inner feminist had issues with this arrangement but that was the way Karen and Robert Williams did things. Karen had pointed out, she was welcome to do things her way when she was the hostess.

Karen put leftovers away and Sarah scraped off dirty plates into the dog bowl. It was time for another tradition, the maternal investigation of Sarah's love life.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," Sarah grinned as usual.

"Such a pity," Karen shot back. "You're not getting any younger, dear. What about that handsome man at the office?"

It could have been a play, with rehearsed lines. "Nah, Will's not my type. He fusses too much."

Karen laughed. "They're never your type, darling. No matter whom I suggest."

"I'm happy being alone," Sarah agreed. "It's nice to have the place all to myself and not be dependent on anyone. I can waltz around in my underwear or sit up all night playing loud music or eat cookies in bed if I want to."

Karen wrapped up the leftover slices of pie. "And scar my son for life if he walks in while you're doing just that. How many times did he come over this week?"

"Two or three, I think. He needed to borrow my computer to talk to his girlfriend. I'd like to point out that I was decent every time."

"Has he told you anything about her?"

"She's an unmarried mother of three, an alcoholic, and a member of a radical terrorist cell."

Karen laughed. "I can pry. He's my son."

"He hasn't said anything. He met her online, didn't he?"

"I think so. I'd like to know more, though. He seems so preoccupied. It's not like Toby to get all hung up on a girl. Maybe she's the one." Karen's eyes gleamed.

"Don't send out wedding invitations before he's had her over for dinner at least once," Sarah teased. "She'll need the Sarah stamp of approval."

"She'll need the Karen stamp of approval first," Karen sniffed. "He's my boy and I reserve the right to spoil him rotten and watch over him like a tiger."

Sarah pretended not to see the goblin tip-toeing to the dog bowl to secure the best bits. "I'm sure he'll work things out. He's a clever guy. Even if he's a spoiled brat and mama's boy."

Karen laughed and swatted at her.

Back in the living room Toby had glued himself to his father's computer, and was now lost to the physical world. He grunted his thanks when his mother and sister returned, bringing coffee and cookies. Then he said something about needing to update his Java before disappearing into cyberspace again.

Karen sighed at him. "I swear, kids these days. They live in a different world than the one we grew up in. Cellphones and laptops and online chat."

Robert grunted his agreement from behind the newspaper. It was not hard to see where Toby had learned this behaviour from.

"At least they don't have bomb drills in school," Sarah quipped. "Hide under your desk and you'll be safe from a nuclear explosion, sure, sure."

Karen chuckled. "Well, that was the fifties for you, dear. At least we knew our boyfriends face to face."

"I heard that," Toby inserted, attention still on the monitor.

"At least you have more to choose from," his mother consented. "I suppose it's all the better that people don't make decisions based on appearance and dress." She did not sound convinced.

"Oh my god, this is awesome," Toby exclaimed and pointed at the monitor excitedly. "Sarah, you gotta see this."

She put her coffee cup down and walked over to peek over her brother's shoulder. The web page was greenish and displayed a clumsy colour pencil drawing of a woman with exaggerated, pointed ears wearing very little. "Okay, what's special about it, Tobes?"

"It's -her-."

Sarah took a second glance. "That's Leggylas?"

"Well, yeah. Her character, not the real Sharon."

"I didn't think the real Sharon would have pointy ears, no."

"Meh. I know you can do better, Sis, but Leggy's not a professional."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, sorry. It's not my kind of thing. Skinny elves in the buff and all."

Toby grinned. "I love it. 'Cause she made it."

"He's got it bad," Karen commented as her son turned on the printer.

* * *

Toby waited until Sarah had gone home and his parents had gone to bed. He sat cross-legged on his bed, looking at the drawing Sharon had made. So she was no great artist, and World of Warcraft elves were designed to grab the eye of hormone-plagued teenage boys. It was something she had made, the first thing he had from her that was uniquely hers. He wanted to frame the print and put it on his wall so it would be the first thing he would see in the morning. Unfortunately, it was going to serve other purposes but he'd print another copy and do that too. Oh yes.

He stood and tapped the mirror on the front of his wardrobe. "Elmo?"

Within moments the fuzzy goblin's face appeared with a questioning look.

"Heya. I need to go in and see His Glitteryness. Want to give me a ride?"

The goblin grinned and threw him a parody of an army salute. The world around Toby went hazy.

When his eyes adjusted to the reality shift he was standing in the throne room of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, amidst goblins and the occasional chicken. None of whom paid much attention to his magical arrival. With the casual air of someone who had made the trip many times he looked around and brushed a trace of glitter off one sleeve.

"Hello, Toby."

The silky voice's owner was lounging sideways on the throne, one leg thrown over its arm. Simply dressed – for him – the Goblin King wore a frilly white shirt, black vest, and grey breeches, and looked quite unperturbed at the intrusion. A small, bird-headed goblin that Toby was not familiar with sat on his knee.

Toby held up the print victoriously. "Your plan worked. I got it!"

Jareth arched one winged eyebrow as if to question the very idea that his plan might not have worked. He extended out a gloved hand. "Let's see, then."

The bird goblin hopped off the King's knee and stuck its tongue out at Toby. It skittered away to join its companions around the beer keg in one corner. Toby walked up the steps and surrendered the paper. Jareth straightened in his seat and tilted his head to study the print.

"She's not an artist," the youth said defensively.

"Her talent, or lack thereof, is not of consequence. She put a lot of thought into this."

"You can tell?"

"I can tell that she spent a long time struggling to get it right. She looked at a lot of other pictures and copied details from some of them. What matters is not the outcome but the amount of time and energy she directed to her work. in that regard, this will serve our purpose nicely."

Several small figures hopped up on the throne's arms to peek. Jareth let them, swatting at one who tried to chew a corner of the paper. "It's a lady!" one declared.

"She's got big boobies!"

"Is she supposed to be blue?"

"Maybe she's freezing."

"Hush," the King brushed them off and stood, goblins scattering left and right. "Yes, this will do, Toby. Well done."

"So what do we do now?"

Jareth's thin lips curled into a small smile. "You'll go back and get a good night's sleep. I will pay your Sharon a visit."

Toby nodded and then paused. "You won't let her see you, will you? I don't want her to feel stalked."

The King held out a slender hand and a crystal orb materialised on his palm out of nowhere. "Your lack of trust is disturbing. No, you cannot come and you cannot watch." He released the crystal and it floated towards the youth who began to fade away, returning to his own realm.

* * *

Monday morning Sarah turned in the last of her seasonal fairies with relief. The project had been interesting but retouching and adjusting the same pictures until Will was satisfied made her want to finish and take on something new. That's how it always was. Will was not unreasonable as far as editors went. She just loved the development phase far more than finalising the artwork. The sketches always had a little wild something that was difficult to capture in the finished image. Raw pencil lines could speak volumes where neat inking stuttered and struggled to get a message across.

Will already had her next project lined up and called her in to look over the customer's proposal. A children's book telling the story of a couple of curious elf children in the author's garden. The writer had supplied a few sketches and descriptions. Sarah was delighted to see that he was not looking for Tolkienesque grace or cutesy things that belonged on Christmas cards. The elf children had a streak of the twisted and mischievous, and the adults were chubby and rosy-cheeked like hobbits. They made their clothes from the petals of flowers, and some of them had wings. In effect, they were fairies.

"So, you want to do this?" Will inquired.

"Yeah, definitely. They remind me of those photos... Sometime in the late 19th century, a couple of English girls made cut-out dolls of fairies and took pictures in their garden. They passed them off as genuine."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard about that somewhere. People believed them, didn't they?"

Sarah smiled. "At least for a while. Maybe I'll look into Victorian art for inspiration. Add a touch of New Age too, to get it back into modern times. The kids go into the writer's house sometimes, right?"

Will nodded. "There's a scene where they discover television, yep."

"Righto. I'm off to the library."

  



	8. A Very Cunning Plan

Sarah met Amanda for lunch at their usual coffee shop, both of them ordering the pasta salad. They seated themselves at a corner table and began to eat. "Oh god, I needed this," Amanda said blissfully. "I totally forgot breakfast today. Again. Will wants me to proofread half a dozen kiddie books this month. I'm about to turn into a Disney Princess."

"I'd pay good money to see that," Sarah commented, picking away the black olives from her salad. She hated their salty aftertaste. "I bet you'd make an awesome princess. Poofy pink dress and sequins everywhere."

"I'd kick your ass with my fairy wand of magical wishes and then I'd go shop for proper clothes using your credit card."

"Mm, Disney Grunge Princess, a new line for today's kids."

"Rides a black My Little Pony with a rainbow mohawk and black leather tack with silver studs."

"Has Ken chained to the stove wearing only a leather thong."

Both women giggled at the mental images. "Yeah, and this is why neither of us design toys for children," Amanda grinned.

"Oh, you'd prefer to design adult ones?" Sarah nibbled on a bit of chicken innocently.

"Cool beans," Amanda replied, looking over Sarah's shoulder. "Fancypants just walked in. You didn't tell me this guy was real. I blame you entirely for my newfound heartbreak."

Sarah turned to look. Two thoughts hit her at once. One, the Goblin King, grey breeches, burnt umber leather jacket, riding boots and all, was strolling into the coffee shop. Two, no one but Amanda and herself seemed to notice, in spite of the man's unusual clothing, wild hair, and make-up. In fact, the barrista took his order without as much as a second glance. "Bloody hell."

Amanda waved. "Over here!"

"Shut up," Sarah hissed.

Amanda waved again. "Hey hot pants, we're over here!"

Jareth walked towards their table, smiling. The image of a cat that just spotted a particularly juicy mouse asleep atop the cream bottle came to her mind. He balanced his coffee cup easily in one hand. "Did you want something, miss?"

"You're him, aren't you," Amanda beamed. "You're the guy Sarah paints."

"My reputation seems to precede me," he replied. "May I join you, ladies?"

Amanda kicked the chair out with one foot. "Hell yes! I'm Amanda."

He sat, gracefully. "My pleasure. Hello, Sarah."

Amanda looked starstruck. The Goblin King did have a certain – presence. He apparently also possessed the ability to not be noticed by anyone in a crowded room unless he wanted to be. "Hello," she replied. "What are you doing here?"

"That should be obvious. I am looking for you."

"I've been warned against taking things for granted," Sarah muttered.

"Ouch." Amanda shot a warning glance at the King. "I don't even know you, mister, but when Sarah uses that voice, someone's in the dog house."

"We've had a few differences of opinion in the past," he agreed.

Amanda shot a glance at her wristwatch. "I got to go in ten minutes. How much detail can you manage before then?"

Sarah made a half-choked noise in her throat, fighting the urge to kick her friend under the table. "Did you want something from me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I wanted to talk about Toby, but it can wait nine minutes and forty seconds."

"Oh, you know Toby too?" Amanda was radiant.

A small smirk played on the King's lips. "I've had some influence on his upbringing. I've known him since he was quite young. Sarah used to babysit him in the evenings."

"Oh, I get it." Amanda grinned at Sarah. "I bet your parents didn't know about you sneaking boyfriends over when they went out, kiddo. I used to totally do the same thing. Tuck the kid in early and make out on the sofa all evening."

Much to her frustration Sarah felt her face taking on the colour of a beet. "That's not what happened."

"Uh huh. Naughty Sarah." Amanda finished off her salad. "Right, I better get going before you try to stab me with a plastic fork. But I want details tomorrow, lots of juicy, gory details, with sex, blood, tears, sex, and drama, and sex. I'll make popcorn."

"In your dreams," Sarah scoffed.

"Back to the slave pit I go. Have fun, you two."

Sarah watched as her friend strolled out, leaving her alone in a crowded room with the Goblin King who seemed to be enjoying his coffee. She turned her eyes back on him. "What do you want?"

"Advice. Your opinion, as it were."

Sarah rubbed her temple with one hand. "Back up a moment. How can you even be here? I sure as hell didn't make any wishes. How come people don't seem to notice you? What did Amanda see? And why did you let her see you in the first place?"

He leaned back on his chair and ticked answers off on his fingers. "I can enter your world when I want, excepting your home. You did not. I don't want them to. Me, but I encouraged her not to pay attention to my attire. I assumed that if I were to approach you alone you would find an excuse to run away."

She speared the last bit of chicken aggressively. "I am not running away," she stressed the words. "I don't run away from trouble."

"If you say so, Sarah. I assume that Toby has showed you this?" He reached into his coat to produce a folded sheet of cheap photocopier paper. Unfolding it, he slid it across the table.

Sarah opened it; it depicted the Warcraft elf drawing, in black and white. "I've seen it, yeah."

The King steepled his slender fingers. "Toby is very taken with this girl. He has had romantic liaisons in the past, of course, but I suspect he's quite serious about this Sharon. Unfortunately she is possessed of a quite secretive nature."

"And you're involved with this how?"

Jareth smirked. "Ever the fierce lioness where Toby is concerned, aren't you? He asked for my help in finding out why she evades his inquiries."

"And being the generous fairytale king that you are..."

"Yes, yes. Would you prefer to have this conversation somewhere else? Screaming and stomping your feet here might draw unwanted attention."

Sarah took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then she pushed her plate away and buttoned up her coat. "Yes. You can walk me to the library. If you stop baiting me, that is."

They must have cut quite the picture to any casual observer who had the same gifts of seeing the unseen that the two Williams children did. Sarah, ordinary and everyday suitable, walking with her hands in her coat pockets and a shoulder bag tucked in under one arm. Jareth, escaped from either a fairytale or a rental stable, or a rental stable in a fairytale. The chill autumn winds did not seem to bother him although his clothes could not offer suitable protection. Nor did the traffic noise or people brushing past them earn as much as a cocked eyebrow. He was not as much of a stranger to her world as Sarah had assumed. But then, she had been warned against taking things for granted.

They walked in silence until able to escape from the crowded main street into the open area in front of the town library, complete with a small fountain, a few benches, and a tree. Not exactly a secluded area, but at least less public than the coffee shop. She wanted privacy but with the safeguard of other people being in the area, if not within earshot. She sat on one of the cast iron benches and patted the seat next to her.

The King draped himself across the bench, one leg stretched, the other resting across the first. "Well?"

"Well? You wanted to talk to me, remember?"

"Tch. I liked you better the other night, all nervous and ready to skitter."

She smirked. "Well, that was on your turf. Now you're on mine, Goblin King. I think I get to be the one acting all superior and bossy here."

He pretended to consider it before nodding. "I suppose that's only, ah, fair. Now tell me about Sharon of the blue skin and the ridiculously pointy ears."

"You're as bad as Karen," Sarah groused. "I know jack all about her. Toby met her online. They play the same fantasy game. He's obsessed with her, but he doesn't really know anything about her. Why do you care in the first place?"

The King stroked his chin with slender fingers. "I have been studying her a bit. She appears to be a tad troubled."

Sarah frowned. "You've been spying on Toby's girl?"

"I prefer the term 'investigating', for future reference."

"Right," she snorted. "Spying. I doubt Toby told you to report to me, though, so where did I get dragged into this dubious scheme?"

He grinned. "He most certainly did not. The girl is what she claims to be, by which I mean that she is in fact of the female disposition and the same age. She lives not too far from here, she is an animal lover, and she is quite attractive. All qualities of which I am certain your brother will approve."

"You forgot the dragging Sarah into this scheme bit."

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must you be so difficult? Sharon appears to be in a relationship already. She is afraid of this fellow, but also attracted to him in spite of her decision to break it off. It would appear that they tend to break up and get back together regularly."

Sarah shrugged. "So the chick is a little minx or maybe just stupid. The internet isn't the safest place to meet people, you know. Toby knows that much. Why do you care?"

He gave her a direct, blue stare. "I care about Toby. I ask for your input because you'd turn up at my castle, reciting children's novellas by the line if I acted in a way you did not feel to be in his best interest."

"I'm not fourteen anymore. I might just take a baseball bat to your kneecaps."

"Now who is baiting who?"

"Point." Sarah relaxed somewhat. "What do you want me to do exactly?"

"I want you to take this sorry excuse for a portrait and turn it into a real painting. Have it printed on good quality paper, have it framed, and see to it that Toby mails it to her. I will provide her street address if necessary, although it would be preferable if he could convince her to give it up in the promise of a present."

"You want to commission a painting of a Warcraft elf. Okay, that one's going in the diary," Sarah laughed. "Can't you just magic it up?"

"I am somewhat restricted Aboveground and an illusion would not suffice. She would wonder at the empty space on her wall once the spell wore off."

Sarah tapped her lips. "Hrm, yes, that might be a bit weird. So let's say I do this painting – what happens next?"

"That depends on your brother. At least he will have her real name and street address. I'm not going to make the first phone call for him. Getting to know her and diverting her interest from her ex-not-ex-ex-again is on him. Do we have an understanding?"

She mentally checked her schedule. With Will's new commission she'd have enough to see to in the next few weeks. "That depends. I'm kind of booked."

The King sighed. "Very well. Name your price."

"Oh, it's not a matter of price, Your Wish Granting Majesty. I have work to do and only so much time. I remember what happened last time I tried to take a shortcut using my old sketchbooks. I'll do this painting of yours if you'll allow me to shoot some snapshots in the Goblin City and use them as reference for my other commissions."

He laughed. "Sarah, I'll assign you a gaggle of goblins to use as models if you want. They'll have a field day playing dress-up."

Her fingers itched. "Then I guess you got yourself an artist."

* * *

Toby arrived at Sarah's apartment in the afternoon, carrying homework and his own laptop, now working again. He raided her fridge and then spotted the sketch she was working on. Sarah had to suppress a grin. Her brother jumped up and down like a little boy, unable to contain his excitement about the rough sketch of a lady elf with physical proportions designed to appeal to male imagination. In fact Sarah was taking liberties, toning down the elf chick quite a bit lest the unfortunate woman develop serious spinal problems related to the pull of gravity.

"Oh my god, Sarah, that's fantastic!" Toby shouted while doing a ferret-esque war dance around the room. Bikkit looked on in amazement, possibly taking mental notes.

Sarah laughed. "No, it's not. But it's not horrible, and that's good enough for now. Just you wait until I get some texture done and she'll look less like her skin is made from plastic."

"I want a copy. I call dibs."

"Oh, I was going to give you a high quality print, actually. Framed, even."

"You rock, Sarah! And it's not even my birthday!"

She put the stylus down next to her tablet and refilled her coffee mug with a grin. "Nope. It's all part of a plan. A cunning plan. It's a commission for you to give to Sharon, actually."

"A commission? As in, a request job?"

"Yep. Your poofy-haired fairytale godfather asked me to do it for you."

Toby sidled over to sit at the table amidst his pile of notes and textbooks. "You saw the King again?"

"Kinda hard not to," Sarah groused. "Seeing as that he strolled into the coffee shop and sat at my table. How he makes no one else notice those ridiculous outfits is beyond mortal understanding. Also, he was lucky Amanda didn't ravish him right there on the floor."

"Heh, yeah. His Glittery Tightness has got a screwed up sense of fashion. He'd be right up Amanda's alley, that's for sure. He asked you to do this painting? For me?"

"For Sharon," Sarah confirmed, then paused. "Toby, why do you call him those things?"

"What, glittery?"

"Yeah. It seems kind of derogatory. I mean, you're friends with the guy."

The youth hitched a shoulder. "Habit, I guess. I picked it up from Hoggle sometime. You always told me never to speak his name lest he'd hear it or turn up or something. And those tights are ridiculous."

"Leggings," Sarah corrected her brother. "Tights are for girls and ballet dancers. Men wear leggings."

"Whatever."

She reached for the stylus and resumed scribbling tiny highlights in the blue elf lady's hair. "But he can't actually hear us talking here, can he? Or is my place only off limits for glitter poofing?"

Toby watched her work like a hawk with a personal and vested interest. "I think it's off limits for pretty much everything. The goblins can go here on their own but he's not allowed to tell them to. He explained it to me sometime. Basically, the whole no power over you thing means he can't do anything or instigate anything that affects your place or you without your permission."

"But he can turn up somewhere that isn't my place just fine? Like, in a coffee shop?"

"Yeah, well, that'd be doing something to the coffee shop."

"So he can turn up but he can't whisk me away unless I permit him to, eh? He can't do anything to me directly unless I let him?"

"That's how I understand it, yeah."

"Guess that explains how he was able to poof me back here from the Underground, I allowed him to." She grinned. "Stop hovering, Toby, I won't get done any faster. Get on that computer of yours and find out where to send the print to."

He drooped. "Yeah... That's gonna be tough. Sharon won't give me her cell number, I doubt she'll give me her address."

"Make her."

"How?"

"Beats me. You're the understudy of the master manipulator, not me. You must have picked up a few tricks over the years."

He shot Sarah a wry smile. "I'm not wearing tights. Ever."

  



	9. Thy Heart's Content

Another dream took her that night. Sarah searched through the dancers in the crystal ballroom. She brushed past couples and ignored leering, laughing eyes behind decadent, beautiful masks. The room swirled around her as if she was revolving around herself even when trying to move straight ahead. Move towards where she had last seen the figure in blue, smirking and then disappearing. She caught a glance of herself in a wall mirror as she sped past. A frightened teenage girl in a poofy white dress defying gravity and common sense. Eyes wide at the displays going on around her, the adult things happening at the corners of her eyes.

Hang on. She was not fifteen. She was in her thirties and she knew what the courtiers and dancers were playing at behind the veils and the draperies and tall columns. She shot a vicious glare at a courtier who leaned in as if to whisper in her ear. He wisely backed off before she had to get physical about rejecting his suggestions.

Two beautiful women clung to the King's arms and he smiled at her, and then he was gone again, leaving her to pursue –

Hell no. This was a dream. Furthermore, it was her dream, not one of the Goblin King's making. He had said as much, that if her dreams of the dance were of his making she would have had no doubt about his intentions. Her dream, not his. She walked across the room, through the crowd, until she reached the chair. The one that she had once used to smash the crystal wall, the soap bubble, the spell. Sitting down to watch the masquerade unfold, she mused that popcorn would have been appropriate.

Sarah tensed at the sensation of a warm breath on her ear and shoulder. She looked up and into the blue eyes of the King, one light, one dark. He purred something but as before, she could not make out the words. His expression was amused and perhaps just a tiny bit surprised. She reached up and ran her fingertips lightly over his cheek; his skin was warm and soft like satin.

"I can't hear you," she told him gently. "But since this is my dream, what do you say we switch to a more primal language?"

He offered a murmured reply that had no sound, and looked at her under lashes several shades darker than his hair.

"Oh, get subtitled or shut up," Sarah murmured back and reached up to pull his face down to hers with one hand while slipping the other to his waist.

The best thing about dreams is that they're private and you can do anything you want in them without concern for the consequences of your actions. Also, there is no such thing as a clumsy or inattentive dream lover.

* * *

The final drawing had an excellent colour range with prominent shades of blue, purple, and dark greys with metallic highlights. And that was all the good there was to say about it as far as Sarah was concerned. She had finished the painting that morning after waking up from a racy dream. The lady elf stood as if looking down at the viewer, her hip thrust out in a provocative angle drawing the eye to the ornamented belt and loincloth that was her main pieces of clothing. Her full, round, and still rather over-sized breasts were kept decent by leather cups connected by thin chains. She wore knee high black leather boots with high heels. To complete the study in ridiculous fantasy outfits, a black hooded cape with holes for her large ears. Her lips were full and pouty, her eyes clouded and suggestive under a small, silver headband.

Amanda studied the print with critical eyes. "Sarah," she said at length. "Sarah, baby, this sucks."

"I know," Sarah sighed. "It's awful. There's no way she can walk in those boots, not to mention fighting or whatever she does for a living. And she better hope it never gets cold at night in that fantasy world of hers."

"I think she's some kind of rogue. A thief, or an assassin, maybe?"

"Who cares? She's an insult to our suffragette foremothers."

Amanda laughed. "Nice paper, though."

"It's a present for the girl Toby has a crush on. From him, obviously. I'm going to get a neat frame for it and hand it over and never think about it again."

"Brushed aluminium. Get a nice, unadorned metal frame. The shine will go good with the grey in the picture. Hey, might as well work with what you got."

"Want to go help me pick one out?"

"Sure thing, baby. You still owe me a tale of drama, old enmity, and gratuitous sex scenes, too. I want it. Particularly the gratuitous sex scenes."

"You're in for such bitter disappointment," Sarah retorted as she put on her coat.

"Doubt it," Amanda beamed. "You're blushing."

Sarah swatted at her. Her cheeks were a little warm, possibly, but that had nothing to do with what happened the day before. It had everything to do with a particularly interesting dream she had that morning. Will waved at them through the open door to his office as they walked past. They both waved back and walked on before they could be trapped in an editorial discussion.

* * *

"I don't know what to tell him." Sharon stared at the monitor with a bleak expression. The messenger window reflected the window, the cursor blinking.

"He's been pretty nice so far, hasn't he?" Nicole brushed a black bang out of her face and peered over her shoulder. The two girls were at the library, enjoying the anonymity of public internet services. Neither were paying attention to small shadows moving within other shadows. There was a lot of people coming and going and a fair deal of background noise.

"Yeah," Sharon nodded.

"So what's the problem?"

"Pete will be pissed if I give my personal info to some guy online."

Nicole sighed. "You dumped Pete, remember? Again."

"Like that's gonna stop him from getting mad." Sharon fiddled with the mouse pad. "You know how he gets when I talk to someone he doesn't know."

"I know he's a jealous piece of shit," Nicole snorted. "Come on, for all you know Tobias is a stud."

Somewhere nearby, someone snickered.

"Or he's some forty year old stalker who lives in his mother's basement with six cats and a poodle. He says he has a present for me."

Another little chuckling noise rang out, unnoticed by either girl.

"What is it?"

"Hell if I know, but he wants my street address so he can mail it."

Neither Sharon or Nicole had the kind of sight that the Williams siblings did. If they had, they might have noticed the small, furry figure that scampered onto a table lamp and leaned towards Nicole's ear, whispering.

"You know," Nicole said as an idea struck, "why not give him my street address instead? At worst he'll show up sometime. If he's a fat old man I'll just tell him I have no idea what he's on about and send him on his merry way."

"You wouldn't mind?"

The dark girl shrugged. "Nobody opens my mail. It's fine, Sharon."

Sharon nodded and began to type out her reply. "Thanks. I owe you one, Nicole."

* * *

Toby chewed on his ball pen. By all logic and common sense he should have been comfortable and writing with something, well, classier than a blue ball pen nicked from a fellow student during some dull sermon by some dull professor. He sat in a comfortable, high-backed leather chair, at a beautifully carved wooden desk that advertised elegance and masculinity, large and impressive. An array of quills, from goose and swan to some he'd be afraid to ask about, sat in a pen holder next to small vials of inks in various shades. Predominantly sepia and black. Light spilled from a crystal chandelier and through large, open windows with an excellent view of a pleasant maze garden. This was the personal library and office of a wealthy man with good taste. A nineteenth century refuge. It was the working desk of the Goblin King who did not happen to be using it at the moment. It was also one of the few places Toby knew of that he could work in peace and quiet, undisturbed by mischievous goblins or curious parents.

"'Tis but an accompanying letter," Sir Didymus, reclining on the chair opposite, observed. The terrier-squirrel-fox goblin knight looked out of place in furniture designed for people of grander size. He carried himself with a certain energetic dignity nonetheless. He was also shamelessly taking advantage of the well stocked liquor cabinet, helping himself to a snifter of brandy that looked like it could have been a prop in a Lord of the Rings movie. "I hath seen thee write far more complicated essays for thy school work, my prince. What is it that troubles thee so?"

"I'm not your prince," Toby muttered, avoiding the question.

"Whatever thou dost say," Didymus acknowledged good-naturedly. "Thou art dodging my inquiry, Sir Toby."

The youth made another attempt at biting the pen in half before replying. "It's not just a letter. It's for Sharon. Just to let her know that Sarah made this painting for her based off her own sketch and that I want her to have it, but – "

"Ah, thou dost desire to impart a knowledge to the fair maiden that 'tis a token of romance and affection, I'd wager?"

"Well, yeah." Toby sighed again. "I've never written this kind of stuff before. What the hell am I supposed to write?"

"Thy heart's content," the little knight declared with finality.

"You make it sound easy."

"'Tis!" Sir Didymus leapt off his chair and waved one paw in the air. "Confess thy true feelings for her, lay thine heart at her feet, wrap her in words of tender love! A gentleman fears not what is in his heart, my prince. Nor does he fear the scorn of others for wearing his lady's colours on his sleeve as he rides forth into battle!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly going to war here, I'm just sending her a present. I just kinda need to get her to understand that I wouldn't mind, you know, actually meeting her. Or at least seeing a picture of what she looks like, maybe talk a bit on the phone, or go out and have coffee somewhere."

"Then that is what thou must write," the knight asserted. "'Tis no challenge for thee to speak thy feelings to me, surely thou art capable of putting it to paper."

The paper in question was beautiful, white and thick, and void of any royal crests. He had picked through the desk drawers for a while before finding a sheet that was indeed pristine and without royal associations. It was also blank and he had a vague feeling that it was staring back at him in dismay. "Maybe I should ask His Nibs," he stalled.

Sir Didymus laughed. "I wouldst not recommend it, Sir Toby. In affairs of the heart, my liege is – assertive."

"'Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I'll be your slave' isn't the best pick-up line ever," Toby agreed. "Right. Dear Sharon. This is a painting that my sister made from your picture. I really liked your picture. I have printed a copy of it and put on my wall."

"Over my bed so that I may look upon it as I lay me down to rest," the fox inserted.

"Lay me down to rest. Er. As I go to sleep. I thought you might like to see what Leggylas would look like if painted by a professional artist – "

"That is a most curious name for a maiden, I dare say."

"I'm not writing that, Didymus." The ball pen made little scratching noises on the thick paper. "I would like to get to know you better. Maybe we could go out and have coffee some day? You can bring your friend if that makes you feel more comfortable."

"Very good," Sir Didymus acknowledged, pouring himself another brandy. "Do not forget to ask for a token of her love to wear into battle, my prince. And do mention doves. Ladies adore doves."

* * *

She was dressed like she was going to war, Sarah mused, looking at herself in her bedroom mirror. She liked to prepare for every eventuality. Going to a place where nothing is impossible, there were quite a few eventualities to consider. The last time she had been to the Goblin City her teenage self and her companions had left it in piles of rubble and frightened chickens. From the looks she had snatched through a castle window that night Bikkit's little escapades first became known to her, the city had been rebuilt since. Regardless, it was a mostly medieval place, taken out of a fairytale book. It was not likely to have such commodities as indoor plumbing (toilet paper had been high on her list of things to pack). Electrical outlets were not an option. She had packed spare batteries for the digital camera and a thermos bottle of coffee. The Goblin City was prone to be full of goblins, though. She had also stocked up on cheap candies and plastic trinkets to bribe or otherwise convince the residents not to steal the clothes off her back.

Sarah picked Bikkit up and put her little harness for walking on and attached the leash. The ferret wriggled, not really minding the harness although she tended to walk more like a furry snake than a leaping, bounding thing while wearing it. She seated the ferret in her shirt, to peek out over the neck opening of her wind breaker, and took a few deep breaths before turning to the mirror. "Pish and Tosh, I need you."

When the Goblin King gave his permission that Sarah could do a reference shoot in the Goblin City he likely intended for her to call upon him to bring her there. She was tempted but at the same time she felt a certain hesitation when it came to relying upon the enigmatic whatever-he-was for anything. He had been a hovering shadow in her mind for too many years for her to treat him like a casual acquaintance now.

The mirror shimmered and swirled and then shone as the two heads of the great, blue German Shepherd became visible. They wagged their tail at the sight of Sarah. "Hello!" they chorused.

"Hi guys! I bought you biscuits. I also need to ask a favour," Sarah greeted them in return.

"Thank you, Sarah," Pish smiled.

"What do you need?" Tosh inquired.

Sarah pointed at several boxes of dog treats in various shapes and colours that sat on the vanity. "All yours, guys. I need to go back to the Labyrinth. I was wondering if there is a way to skip the part where I have to crawl on my hands and knees and end up in the castle."

The image disappeared from the mirror. The two-headed guide dog appeared in the room accompanied by a few small sounds like soap bubbles bursting. "We can send you," Pish agreed.

"As long as the King doesn't mind," Tosh added. "It is his domain."

Bikkit wriggled, eager to inspect the new presence. Sarah held on to her. "Well, he said I could go and that he would even assign some goblins to help me, so I figure that he doesn't mind."

Pish grinned approvingly. "Shall we take you to him, then?"

Tosh sniffed a box of bright red chewing bones. "Or did you want to go somewhere else?"

Sarah laughed as boxes of dog goodies began to disappear off the bed with random little pops. "I want to go to the Goblin City. There's this fountain at the centre, that'd be fine. Please don't put me near that awful gate guardian robot thing."

  



	10. Like a Friggin' Tourist

The spires of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City soared towards the sky of the Underground. The sky was currently a pleasant shade of greenish blue with a few white puffs drifting about lazily, reflecting the mood of its ruler. The castle overlooked the realm with tall towers and flying buttresses, and a rather prominent disregard for the laws of physics. It was a visible testament to the all-seeing presence of the mercurial king of the realm. He was currently seated on a window sill in the highest tower, letting the wild wind blow his black cape about and make a (bigger) mess of his platinum hair. Goblins in various sizes and shapes kept him company. In spite of the din of their games Jareth felt a subtle prickling sensation at the edge of his awareness.

He mentally investigated while sweeping a lazy glance over the Labyrinth. It was a curiously blue sensation that he had felt once or twice in the past. Not hostile, not intrusive, just sort of there, and minding its own business. A traveller's guide, not prone to interfering, and certainly not to create disorder. Or indeed, order in his perfectly orchestrated chaos. The King relaxed his mind and smiled to himself. There was another presence, following the blue one, a human presence that he had expected to call upon himself for transportation. He'd never quite figure her out but he would allow her to have her way this time.

She was doing what he wanted, after all, even if she was taking liberties with the finer details of the plan.

If a writer had to pick three words to describe the Goblin City, they might be 'picturesque', 'chaotic', and 'bloody mess', except that would be four words. The smells of the place hit her nostrils with the subtlety of an anvil dropped from great height. Burning firewood and charcoal smoke rising from stoves and cooking fires to escape through the twisted chimneys before falling back down to create a backdrop for an olfactory assault composed from boiling beans, fur, sloshing mud, and only the gods would know what else. On the up side, Sarah mused, there was no smell of car emissions. She inhaled deeply and then looked around, taking in the sights with the eyes of an artist this time.

Limestone was the favoured building material, although there was the occasional half-timbered building. The angles of the houses were casual and disorderly, as if put together willy-nilly by drunken architects. The fact that they were still standing hinted that there had to be some underlying order to the chaos. Signs rattled outside some buildings. Literacy was not common to goblins as far as she knew but anyone could figure out the meaning of a drawing of a bunch of grapes and a cup, or a horseshoe and an anvil. There was straw in the gutter, mixed with sand, mud, road apples, and the occasional fruit peel. The fountain plaza was a busy thoroughfare and residents were coming and going, shouting and talking, and in one case, snoring. But unlike a woodcut from an early print of Grimm's Fairytales, these people were not human. They were twisted, furry, lanky, squat, fat, thin, pointy-eared, bulbous-nosed, horned, helmeted, hideous, adorable –

"This is where you wanted to go?" Pish inquired, breaking Sarah's line of thought.

"The fountain is right there," Tosh added.

"Yep. This is exactly where I wanted to go. I love you guys."

The blue dog wagged its tail. "Do you want us to take you somewhere else later?"

"Well, I'll want to go home sometime but it'll be a while. Can I call upon you?"

Pish nodded. "Any mirror will do."

"As long as the Goblin King does not object," Tosh warned.

"I am definitely going to try to stay on His Majesty's good side, don't worry. I'll see you later, guys." She hugged the blue dog goodbye and watched it fade away, out of existence. Bikkit propped her little head up out of Sarah's shirt to stare after the vanishing canine with disregard as if to say, 'good riddance'. She was not a dog loving ferret.

"Right," Sarah told her. "I'll let you down to play in a moment but right now you're staying here in my shirt or I swear, I'll tie ribbons to your whiskers."

The ferret looked unfazed by the threat.

She readied the digital camera and checked its settings as well as the battery lifetime. She would have to filter out red before using the finished pictures, or the lighting would end up looking odd due to the unusual tinge of the Underground. Fortunately she lived in the digital age and photo manipulation was something every other kid could do these days. She snapped a few pictures of the fountain in all its crude glory and adjusted the sharpness until she was satisfied.

Sarah started walking at a brisk pace, away from the plaza. Bikkit scampered on to her shoulder to sit like a queen surveying her realm, sniffing every breeze. Last time Sarah had been here she had been a bit preoccupied, running for her life and dodging live ammunition – the goblins inside the cannon balls had screamed with glee as they flew – and terrified that she was running out of time. Today she had all the time she could want and the residents were not giving her as much as a second glance in passing. She was going to find the perfect shooting location for this little adventure, and she was going to enjoy the sights along the way.

* * *

"And how goes the writing of heartfelt declarations?"

Toby looked up from the painfully crafted letter still sitting on the desk. His bright blue eyes met their two-hued counterparts in the face of the King, leaning against the study's door. Sporting his often favoured burnt sienna leather coat with the single shoulder plate, Jareth looked to be in a good mood. In fact, he was grinning. Sir Didymus, on the other hand, saw nothing for the brave little knight had fallen asleep in an armchair after defeating the brandy bottle. He was snoring lightly.

"I'm about done although I think it sucks," the youth replied honestly.

"Tch. I'm sure it's perfectly naïve and heartfelt and quite splendid for its purpose." The Goblin King strolled across the study and made a sweeping gesture at the tall, arched windows. "Come, come, Toby, tell me what you see."

Toby put the ball pen in the pen holder next to the array of luxurious quills and walked over. At first he could not tell what was so interesting about the view. It was a pleasant, sunny day in the Underground and the Goblin City far below was bustling with activity. That was nothing he had not seen before. Certainly nothing that would serve to plaster that particular smug grin on to his friend and mentor's thin lips.

"Look by the water mill, Toby," Jareth said.

Toby tilted his head for a better view. The wheels of a large watermill churned the waters of a small pond surrounded by an apple orchard. At the end of it lay a quaint, but charming half-timbered cottage. Smoke curled towards the sky from the chimney. "Isn't that new?"

"Yes, yes, it is."

He glanced back at the King. "I don't think I've ever seen you actually add anything to the city before, you know."

Jareth folded his arms across his chest and laughed, a soft, rippling sound. "Oh, you haven't? I wonder why that might be."

Toby frowned. "It's always been like it was for Sarah before."

"Yes?"

He gaped. "Sarah is here?"

"Nothing slips past you." The King was smirking, obviously pleased with himself.

Toby felt dizzy. "What the hell is Sarah doing here? That's... Oh my god, I'm gonna throttle her."

Jareth laughed again. "You'll find that difficult to do from up here."

* * *

The watermill on the edge of the Goblin City was rustic and beautiful. It was surrounded by pleasant, sunlight dappled apple orchards on three sides. A small river ran through, providing water for the mill pond. Carefully tended flowerbeds lined the little road that lead to the miller's house. It was idyllic, fantastic, perfect, and Sarah had filled one zip disk already when a tell-tale swirl of glitter appeared right in front of her. She stopped flat, expecting to witness the dramatic entrance of the monarch of the realm. Instead, Toby dropped out of nowhere, nearly falling on his backside as he materialised. He had obviously been leaning on something that was not transported along. He also looked surprised.

"Hi Tobes," she offered, puzzled.

Toby flailed and finally found his balance. "I can't believe this! You're here! All those times you said I couldn't go, all those warnings, and here you are, walking around like a friggin' tourist!"

Sarah's temper reared its head. "Back up a sec, kiddo! You're the one who's been coming and going here for a decade or more without bothering to let anyone else know so get off my case."

"Yeah well," Toby pouted. "You'd have ripped my face off if I had said anything."

"With good reason. I thought this place was dangerous."

"It's not fair. I come here for years and it always looks the same and then you turn up and the city starts -growing-. This watermill has never been here before."

Sarah could only hope she looked more intelligent than she felt at the moment. "You mean that this place, this entire orchard is new? And that I made it, somehow?"

Toby shrugged. "Well, it sure wasn't me."

"Ho snap," she said, impressed. "Yeah, I can definitely see me imagining something along those lines. Actually, I think I did something like this once. But Toby, when I paint something it stays on the paper, it doesn't materialise out of thin air. I think you're moping up the wrong tree here."

He opened his mouth and then shut it again before taking on a sheepish expression. "I'm being an ass."

Sarah swatted her brother's arm lightly. "It's okay. I'll let you live. This time. You can help me take pictures if you like."

Toby frowned. "I hate to burst anyone's bubble, Sis, but are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, what if someone gets a hold of the pics somehow? That's going to be one heck of an explanation to come up with."

"No one would believe it. They'd think it was staged with puppets or that I had manipulated the photos. You gotta love the digital age."

"I guess. Okay, what do you need?" He was still feeling silly about his outburst of sibling jealousy.

Sarah grinned. "Goblins. Lots of goblins. Somebody promised me a gaggle of goblins."

* * *

"Did she say the words?" A toad-faced goblin peered out between two grey-garbed knees.

"Nope," another replied from a bush. "She's talking about geese."

"Geese?"

"A gaggle is a lot of geese," the bush goblin replied confidently.

"I'm not gonna be a goose!" the first objected with a horrified expression, clutching a knee for support.

The owner of the knees peered down. "You're going to be a frog in a minute if you don't keep your voice down."

"Eep!"

"Now pay attention," the Goblin King said. "You're going to learn how to be chubby elves."

* * *

Sarah was running out of storage space for pictures and had finished off her thermos bottle of coffee. She was exhausted. She had no idea where Bikkit had taken off to. The goblins had been adorable in their little green elf hats – where had those come from, anyhow? . The impressions of the day were piling up in her mind, waiting to be sorted and processed before she could keel over for some much deserved rest. It was definitely time to pack up and call it a day. She looked at the small army of helpful and enthusiastic goblins that had appeared out of nowhere and failed to see her brother among them.

"Octavius, did you see where Toby went?"

The goblin twirled his baseball cap. "Yep. He gone home. Truf took him."

"Oh all right. I should get going too. You guys have been awesome. Would you help me find Bikkit and then take us back?"

"Leaving so soon?"

She spun around at the sound of the silky, accented voice. The Goblin King, in all his glittery majesty, leaned against an apple tree, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he might have been standing there a while, watching the scene unfold.

"A pity. I hope everything was to your satisfaction?" he inquired.

"It's been fantastic. You've certainly done everything I asked for."

"Yes, I do have that habit, do I not?" He straightened and stalked towards her. She fought down the urge to back away.

"That's close enough, Your Highness. That intimidating prowl of yours was a lot more unsettling when I was fourteen."

His eyes sparkled. "You've certainly grown up, Sarah. Might I remind you that now you are on -my- turf?"

"Oh right. Do I scream and flee up a tree or will cowering be good enough?"

The King laughed and then said, "I am quite pleased with the commission."

"I'm not," Sarah replied honestly. "It's awful. But it's what you asked for."

He arched one winged eyebrow. "And what about it do you not like?"

"It's sex. Blatant, unashamed teenage wish fulfillment." The irony of that statement, made in present company, hit her a second later. "I like my paintings of people to have a little more substance, that's all."

"You'd be surprised at what teenagers wish for. It is often very droll." His voice carried the certainty of long familiarity.

Something in that tone made Sarah flare up; she too sold dreams for a living, after a fashion. "That's not true. Teenagers have hell trying to sort out what's going on with everything and growing up. I just don't like the way that certain game companies use questionable ideals and plentiful boobage to hook the kids into playing."

"Plentiful boobage?"

"I'm not having this argument. Not after what you did to my vampire painting. It's bad enough that my editor wants me to do sparkly vampires, I'm not going to go into wish fulfilment at -all- where you're concerned."

He chuckled. "Very well. Are you ready to return to your home, then?"

She looked around. "In a moment. I need to find my ferret."

"I rather enjoy her little visits. Her wishes are of course quite easy to grant. Why, currently she is chasing a mouse through a chicken coop, scattering eggs and feathers everywhere. Do you really want to interrupt her fun?"

Sarah groaned. "She'll be all right?"

"I promise."

"Chicken coop?" She shot the King a glance. "You're giving her a bath before you send her home, I hope."

A soft chuckle accompanied her as the glitter rose, and the yard of the watermill faded into apple-scented mist before the familiar shape and appearance of her living room took over. She scattered her belongings in small piles. First, start the laptop up and begin the transfer of image files to the hard drive. Then, put away the clothing and the roll of toilet paper, and wash out the empty thermos bottle. Switch to the other zip disk and empty that one out too. Sorting the images would be time consuming affair indeed. Well, then she knew what she'd be doing in the morning. For now, shower and bed.

  



	11. Pimping Isn't Cool

Gauzy draperies spilled from the ceiling far overhead, casting a dream-like quality over the dreamscape – fancy that! – of her ballroom dream, by now so familiar that Sarah felt she was almost a regular. Crystal mirrors and glittery surfaces sparkled and shone, and the dancers, grotesque and alluring in their masks, whirled around. They pressed against her teenage self, and tugged at her white dress for attention, making silent offers of an adult nature. The eternal game of cat and mouse went on, night after night. As always, she was the mouse, innocent in white, thinking that she was chasing the cat in sparkling blue until such a time as that he turned around and caught her.

She was getting a little fed up with this dream. Even if it had, ahem, interesting variations at times.

Take, for example, the two women clinging to the King. A brunette in a grotesque, horned white and gold goblin mask that rendered her face a mask of disdain and hunger, vampire-like. The fan that she held up as if to hide her emotions was too small and reminded Sarah of a handkerchief. The other woman, her neck and shoulders framed in abundant red curls, wore an expression of undisguised orgasmic lust. Her pale face was barely concealed by a dark red half-mask and her body plastered against his as if she was ready to drag him down to the floor right there.

Was she supposed to be impressed by his virility? Jealous of the women swooning at the faintest brushing against them of his glittering frock coat?

The King's strange eyes locked on hers and he raised his gloved hand as always, stepping towards her. And as always, the two women tried to cling to him as he ignored them. Was this where her teenage self would be flattered and dazed that he would pick her over them?

Sarah stepped forwards and caught the red-head's gaze with her own. "Don't you have any dignity? Get a grip on yourself, woman."

She felt the King's chuckle, warm breath on her shoulder, but like always, she could not hear his voice. He smiled, no doubt inviting her to come away with him and ignore the confusion of his discarded fan girls.

"Look at yourself. You don't even exist if he's not looking at you," she told the red-haired woman in the pale rose dress. Then she spun around and faced the King. "And as for you, you seriously need to cut back on whatever you're reading in your spare time. You think using women until something better comes along is seductive? I've got news for you, hotpants. Pimping isn't romantic."

She went looking for a chair.

* * *

The walls of the cubicle offered some shelter from prying eyes and ears. Her friend did not look like she objected to distraction as Sarah walked in, bearing libations of a caffeinated nature. Amanda put down the page of manuscript she was currently editing and stuck her red pen behind one ear, schoolmistress style. "Sarah, I worship at your feet."

The brunette eyed the page; it had remarkable amounts of red on it. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse. This guy suffers from Tolkienesque delusions. His blond, beautiful elf prince who just happens to be an expert marksman has all the personality of a wet brick."

"Ouch."

Amanda took the proffered coffee cup and inhaled with a gratified sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a literature snob, but for heavens' sake, this guy should just admit that he has a crush on Orlando Bloom and be done with it. So what's with the sleepy face? Long night?"

Sarah flopped on to Amanda's desk and dangled her legs. "Disturbing dreams and waking up to a ferret that reeked of peach shampoo."

"You're not supposed to use perfumed shampoo with animals or children," Amanda observed conscientiously.

"Tell that to my ferret sitter. I bet he thought it was funny."

"Peaches are funny?"

"Old in-joke."

"Oh." Amanda sipped her coffee and then brightened. "Oh! I got my tattoo! Want to see it?"

"Depends on where you got it," Sarah grinned.

"Bless your gutter mind. It's on my leg." Amanda pulled up her trouser leg and kicked off her shoe. On her ankle, a small winged fairy with a mischievous expression was depicted in flight. The black lines were accentuated by a few strategic flower petals in blue.

"Ooh, I like it. That's going to look awesome in summer when you wear sandals."

"Yep. It didn't even hurt all that much and the redness will be gone in a week or two. I'm really happy with it."

Sarah fidgeted with her cup. "So, can you spare me ten minutes before going back to reading about Orlando Bloom's blonde sexiness or whatever?"

"I'll give you the rest of the day if it gets me out of reading more of this crap. What's on your mind, dirty and depraved as it is?"

"It's that dream I told you about. I keep having it, and it's driving me nuts."

"Yessss," Amanda hissed with glee. "Have you caught Prince Charming yet?"

Sarah snorted. "Caught, held down, and shagged under the buffet table. That version was rather fun."

"I bet!"

Sarah put her empty cup down on the desk. "It's the same dream every time. I'm in the ballroom during a Venetian style masquerade, and I'm chasing the King. He's trying to tell me something but I can't make out a peep of what he's saying. Then I get to pretty much pick the ending. Last night I ended up telling his fan girls off for being stereotypical and stupid. It's driving me up the wall that I can't seem to find out what it is he's trying to tell me. If this is some kind of lucid dream where I can pick what's going to happen, shouldn't I be able to decide to get him subtitled or something?"

Amanda took the pen down from behind her ear and tapped it against her lip. "Well, your subconscious mind is definitely trying to tell you something and for some reason you're not hearing it. You have any idea what sort of thing he might be saying in general?"

"Probably some romantic stuff."

"Which you totally don't want to hear. Sarah Williams is divorced and lives alone and don't need a man to mess up her nicely ordered little life?"

"Bitch."

Amanda grinned. "Okay, and this prince or king or whatever he's supposed to be is really the guy we met at the coffee shop, right? The guy you told me you don't trust around Toby. Same guy you've been dressing up in glam rock outfits on paper for like twenty years?"

Sarah groaned. "Yeah, I can hear where this is going."

"So, any chance of it happening?"

"Not likely. He doesn't seem to hate me as much I thought he would but I don't think he trusts me any more than I trust him. And that sure isn't saying a lot. We have bad history and besides, he's a manipulative control freak."

"And hot."

"Yeah."

Amanda spun her chair around. "Well, if the dreams are kind of lucid, your best choice is to go with it. You're trying to tell yourself something. Your waking self has a bazillion objections and reasons not to listen. So push the guy up against a wall in your next dream and tell him exactly why you think he shouldn't bother trying to weasel into your life again. It's your dream so you don't need to worry about being embarrassed or pissing him off, after all. Then your subconscious can come up with a reply to that if it still thinks his hotness is worth fighting for."

Sarah's lips twitched at the notion of shoving Jareth, dream or reality, up against a wall. She was reminded of how he had done that to her, a long time ago, in the tunnels under the Labyrinth. "That's a good idea, actually."

"All my ideas are good, it's just that I'm horribly unappreciated by my fans," Amanda stated. "You let me know how that goes, okay? If nothing else, it'll be more erotic than this piece of drivel." She waved the manuscript with an exasperated look.

* * *

Toby tried to focus on the textbook on the table. Success was debatable. The university library was quiet and orderly, with few distractions, but his mind kept wandering off topic with a persistence of a six year old on sugar. When someone across the table started clicking a ball pen repeatedly it was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Could you -please- not do that," he hissed and looked up, in that order.

"Ingenious device, really," Jareth mused, clicking the pen a few more times for good measure. "So much more convenient in daily use than quills or fountain pens."

Toby face palmed. "I'm not getting any studying done today, am I?"

"Oh, am I interrupting?" An innocent air surrounded the Goblin King, casually dressed in a white frilly shirt with a black velvet vest and grey leggings. As usual, no one else seemed to pay him much notice. He stopped clicking the pen and put it down, and then, to Toby's frustration, started to toy with his pendant instead. "How rude of me. I just wanted to ask you to clarify an expression."

"Okay. But I really have to study after that."

Jareth grinned. "What exactly is 'pimping'?"

Toby did a visible double take at his companion. "Come again?"

A winged eyebrow shot up. "I have been accused of doing it. I should like to know what it is."

Helpless to stop himself from snickering, Toby gestured at the King's outfit. "I guess you look the part except you need more bling bling. Oh, and a purple fur coat and a hat with a ridiculous ostrich feather. Pimps are men who solicit for prostitutes."

Jareth sniffed. "I am a sartorially challenged procurer?"

Toby snickered. "Yep. And nope, because it's also come to mean someone who attracts girls like, well, like a pimp. Someone who can boss girls around and make them do whatever he wants."

"I see." The King's lips formed a thin line of disapproval.

"You got told off for dressing extravagantly and treating women like possessions," Toby explained. "Of course I haven't the first clue who in the Underground would have the guts to criticise your royal wardrobe. There's no such thing as a women's lib goblin movement, is there?"

Jareth winced. "If there was I'd have its ringleaders doing laps around the Bog of Eternal Stench."

* * *

Sarah made tea and made comfy on the sofa with chocolate chip cookies and a small bowl of brightly coloured gummy bears. She pulled her laptop up on one knee and settled in to watch a slide show of her newly acquired hoard of stock photos from the Underground. Hoggle took up camp in the other end of the sofa. Close enough that he could watch the photos on the monitor but far enough that he might keep his air of dignified pouting.

"Oh, stop it," Sarah teased him, wiggling one panda slipper covered foot as if she might kick his shin with it if he didn't. Bikkit popped out from under the sofa and tried to drag her foot away. "Ow, let go, you little monster!"

The dwarf's meaty lip twitched. Even such well rehearsed grumpiness as his was not ferret antics proof.

Sarah managed to secure her foot and tucked it in under herself. "Anyhow, these are the first pictures I took. They're from the plaza at the centre of the Goblin City – "

"I's been there," Hoggle muttered. "I knows what it looks like."

Sarah tilted her head. "I always wondered about that fountain, though. It looks like – "

"I knows what it looks like."

"So why does it look like – "

He blushed. "Well, that's your fault, Missy!"

Sarah grinned. "I kinda figured that I made it up somehow. Like the bookend and the fox plushie and all the other stuff from my room that turned up in the Underground."

The dwarf was crimson, a hue that did not go well with his bright, baby blue eyes.

"It's the egg and the hen all over. Which came first? The toys or the Underground? Did I make up those things based on stuff I had in my room. Or did I get the toys because they looked like things from the Underground?" She peered at her friend. "I guess I'll have to ask the King about that sometime."

"You shouldn't!"

She clicked 'next' on the slide show. "This is right below the castle. There's this adorable little row of cottages leaning against each other like they could fall over like dominoes if you kicked them from the right angle. Oi! Bikkit! Drop that this instant!"

The ferret shot her owner a look of pure innocence before scooting away with a stolen gummy bear. Sarah got up and put the bowl out of reach of four-legged thieves. Sugar was the last thing she wanted Bikkit to overdose on. Partly because a sugar fuelled ferret was a truly frightening notion. Partly because ferret digestion does not agree well with sugar in the first place.

Hoggle clicked several times before pausing in his viewing. "That's one ugly goblin. In one ugly hat."

She peeked. "I don't even know that goblin's name. He was funny. He kept saying 'ribbit' like a frog and looking like he expected lightning to strike out of the clear blue sky. The hats are props, they were supposed to be elves."

"I ain't ever seen an elf wearin' a hat like that."

"I've never seen an elf, period, but I'm going for a look kinda like Santa's elves for this project. You know, small, green, cute, and busy."

"Ain't nothing cute about goblins either."

"Geez, Hoggle, what's wrong with you today? You're not still pissed that I went there in the first place, are you?"

He huffed. "It ain't a playground. You gots no idea what you's toyin' with. Now me, I ain't been back since you smashed that castle and I ain't goin', either."

"That's because you're afraid that the King is going to toss you in the Bog if you do," Sarah reasoned. "Honestly, if he was going to do that he'd have gotten around to it by now."

"I ain't given him the chance. I'm a coward and I knows it. I'm fine where I am, it ain't much but it's home, and it ain't got no high and mighty King of Hedgehog Hairdos in it."

Sarah chewed on a gummy bear, photos momentarily forgotten. "You know, I always wondered why you're so sure that there'll be hell to pay if the King catches you. Sir Didymus and Ludo seem to be doing just fine. You'd think it'd be equal measures of punishment if it came to that."

The dwarf grunted. "The knight ain't done nothing he weren't supposed ta be doin', and the Royal Rat don't care what a walking carpet goes and does. Ludo's too dumb ta be scared and Sir Didymus, well, he's gotta do what a knight's gotta do."

"Like rescuing damsels in distress and guarding bridges just because they're there. Yeah, it makes sense in a kind of twisted Monty Python way," Sarah agreed. "It's not fair, though."

"Life ain't fair," Hoggle agreed and finished off the gummy bears.

  



	12. A Manipulative Bastard

"You are a figment of my imagination," Sarah told the King. They traversed the floor of the crystal ballroom, his gloved hands leading her into the dance. "If the real you wanted to tell me something he'd be smart enough to just send a goblin with a note. You're just a manifestation of my fantasies."

The King tilted his head , the blue streaks in his hair catching the light. He never missed a step in the dance, supporting her whenever she did.

Sarah sighed. "Amanda, I freaking hate you for suggesting this. Right. Okay, Goblin King, you're gorgeous and sexy but I'm getting really sick and tired of this dream. I don't trust you one bit and there's no way in hell I'd get tangled up with the real you. I'd get burned so hard I'd be smelling barbecue for months. You're a manipulative control freak with an oversized ego and a sadistic streak to match. And what the hell is with those pants anyway?"

His odd eyes locked on hers intently; the air was thick with the tension of a kiss that was almost happening. The thirteen hour clock began to chime.

"Besides, what kind of grown man has the hots for a fourteen year old? Seriously, if you were trying to get into my pants back then, that's just twisted. And that whole fear me, love me, your slave thing? That's got to be the most screwed pick-up line in existence. If you'd said something like, 'so, I'll drop the kid off at your place and then we can go out for a movie' I'd totally have fallen into your arms, right? I might have shouted a bit about the cleaners and the other crap you pulled but I'd have gone for it in the end."

Faces spun in a circle around them as the other dancers crowded in, pressing against them, swirling and garish. Sarah ignored them – and that chair did look tempting – and clung to the blue velvet coat of her silent dance partner.

"Thing is – Jareth," she allowed herself to speak his name for the first time in decades. "I'm not at all sure what you're up to. I thought you'd given up and gone away when I stopped having this dream but now I know that you just latched on to Toby instead. I don't even know what you are. All I know is that if I'm back in this ballroom again every other night then we're clearly not through with each other. Even if you told me you didn't send the dreams. And if you're going to be a part of my life again, somehow, then I want to know the rules."

The King of her ballroom dream offered no reply.

* * *

Large, green eyes looked up at him under dark lashes, clouded by fear and desire. Her rose lips parted ever so slightly in a silent whisper, a wordless wish that he was only too willing to fulfil. Supple and soft like silk, the tip of her tongue slipped out to explore his lips while her fingers brushed over his cheek. He could feel the soft scrape of her fingernails against his skin. He reached for her, wanting her body pressed against his, wanting –

She had fur.

Jareth's eyes flashed open. He found himself glowered at by a ferret who had just been giving his face a fond tongue bath when she suddenly got squeezed. Princess hopped away, insulted, to curl up at his feet instead.

He fell back amongst the pillows of his bed. "Oh bloody hell."

He rubbed his eyes, banishing the enticing images of his dream now entangled with a raspy little tongue and the scent of ferret. Then he sat back up and reached for his would-be caretaker and scratched her ears until she forgave him for his rude reaction to her tender efforts.

Jareth put Princess down before leaping from the bed, pausing only to shrug into a long robe before heading barefoot out into the corridors outside.

* * *

The apple trees of the orchard were taking on shape as Sarah dabbed paint upon paint. She was going for a misty effect as if they were a little unreal around the edges. Later, she would add more detailed foliage and hints of ripe fruit but she would not commit to such effort until she had the elfin figures in the foreground done. Time was money, even if she loved her work, and sometimes, compositions just did not work out. Life was a lot simpler with Photoshop magic, though. No paints to be cleaned up, no dirty brushes, no chemical smells around the apartment. The paintings did not get the texture that real canvas would provide, but for illustrative purposes digital painting was the way to go. The ability to undo a bodged stroke or work on a layer beneath the top strokes. Oh, yes, those were the little things that made her life so much easier.

Painting had a certain meditative quality, a tranquillity that bordered upon Zen. Each dab of a digital brush added another layer of detail to the painting. The many little blobs of colour came together to form a greater whole. She preferred to do her shading and backgrounds manually rather than create brushes to do the major part of the work for her but might cost her the feel. Painting leaves dab by dab was time consuming. Furthermore, it offered her plenty of time to be alone in her head with her thoughts.

She at least had the wits about her to look sheepish when she realised that Anastasia had been sitting on the table next to the tablet. She had been waving her hand in front of Sarah's eyes for at least a minute or two. "Er, hi."

"Are you busy, Sarah?" the goblin girl asked.

She reached for her coffee mug, and realised that its contents had gone way cold. She stood and emptied it out in the kitchen sink. "Yeah, but it's okay. I can use a break, really. What's up?"

Anastasia peeked at the monitor. "Ooh. Is that the new orchard?"

"Yep." Sarah filled fresh coffee – nectar of the higher pantheon and all the little saints and angels – into the mug. "Like it?"

"Yes! It's very pretty and it's fun to ride the waterwheel!"

"Oh, I meant the painting."

The goblin peeked again. "Pretty colours," she concluded. Of course, the painting was mostly dabs of colour at this stage. "Do you like me?"

Sarah blinked. "What?"

Anastasia fidgeted. "Well, do you like me? Do you trust me?"

"Sure? We've been friends for a long time, haven't we? I'd hardly let you come and go as you liked if I minded having you around. Us girls got to stick together."

"Okay. 'Cause I got picked because you trust me." She was radiant with pride.

"You got picked? For what?"

"To fetch you," Anastasia declared with the cheerful innocence of someone who did not realise that Sarah might have wanted to know that she was going, not to mention where she was going. Possibly she might have wanted to change out of her pyjamas and panda slippers before disappearing in a small cloud of pink glitter.

"Whoa, back up," Sarah dropped her coffee mug in mid-dimensional transit. "Holy shi-!"

The fresh, pleasant scent of flowering lilacs hit her nostrils and the chill night breeze pounced. Completely unprepared for her sudden reality switch, Sarah fell to her knees and grabbed at the grass for support. Steadying herself she managed to wonder at the appearance of two supple, black boots just in front of her nose. Her gaze trailed up their calves and higher. "I'm going to kill you," she murmured.

The Goblin King smirked. "Really, Sarah. No need to kneel." He held out a gloved hand to help her to her feet.

She ignored it and scrambled up on her own. "What the hell?"

He folded his arms behind his back and studied her, and she studied him in return. Bathed in the silvery moonlight of the Underground night, he was formidable. He wore black from top to toe but for a sash in lilac purple around his waist. It matched the shade of the majority of the lilac trees in the garden into which he had seen fit to pull her.

"So good of you to accept my invitation," he murmured at length.

"You call that an invitation?" She brushed grass from her knees and elbows.

He tilted his head again. "Ah. Goblins tend to be very literal."

"Next time, send me a note."

"Yes, yes. I apologise for my subjects' enthusiastic nature." He gave her a second look-over. "Are you cold?"

"It's the middle of the freaking night here and I'm hardly dressed for the occasion," she groused.

"Sit." He gestured at the small bench at the centre at the garden. A warm looking woollen, black blanket appeared on it, neatly folded.

Sarah shuffled over and sat down, wrapping the blanket around herself. It was soft and warm and strangely light. She pulled her feet up under herself and glowered. "Spill."

"Ah, yes. The Williams temper. I apologise once again. I meant to extend an invitation, not to instigate an abduction. And to forestall your next question, yes, I will send you back whenever you wish."

She scowled, in part to bite back a grin because, honestly, she could see the humour of the situation. What a picture she must have made, flopping in almost on his feet in a cloud of glitter. "I forgive you. This time."

He offered a small, sardonic bow. "Much obliged."

"Okay, I'm here. Why am I here?"

The King crossed his arms across his chest and stood in silhouette against the pale moonlight and the star-studded velvet black sky. He looked formidable. "You are here because I need you."

"Come again?"

He offered a small smile. "I did not intend to tell you this early in our – renewed relationship but that is the truth of the matter. Come, come, Sarah. Surely you have wondered what this entire realm is, and what exactly keeps you and your brother connected to it. You have wondered what I am. You want to know the rules."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "I don't think I'm going to like this. You said you had nothing to do with my dreams."

"I said that they were not of my making." He raised one hand, no doubt to ward off an impending explosion. "I have been an unwilling, if intrigued spectator, though."

"Unwilling? Because if you've been spying on my dreams somehow – "

"I have no power over you, remember? You dreamt of me, and I in turn watched what you dreamt. I had no influence over the proceedings, nor am I going to hold them against you. Except, possibly, the pimp bit. I found that rather insulting." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you need to scream and stomp your feet, kindly get it done with."

She held back an acerbic reply. The man had an innate ability to aggravate her. She certainly felt like giving him a few pieces of her mind, but while a tantrum might be emotionally gratifying it would not provide answers. This situation had taken an uncomfortable twist and she needed information. "I'm good."

The King turned to study her face and then nodded. He walked over and sat down next to her on the bench, not close enough to crowd her, yet not as distant as before, stretching his long legs. "Very well. Do you realise why I let you retain the ability to see my goblins? Why I allowed them to go on visiting your home as they pleased? Let you call upon your friends when you wished to?"

"Not a clue. I used to think that you wanted me to remember the Underground because you were going to come back some day, but then time passed. I spent a lot of time reading about how to ward off faeries and spirits. I used to make sure I always had iron nearby."

"Tch. I am not a sidhe to be chased off by salt or counting my host. Every moment you spent with creatures from my world you fed your dreams into the Underground. You helped this realm to go on existing in its current form. It was not much, a few stolen moments brought back by your friends, but it was enough. When Toby called upon me, I was able to channel his dreams here, sustaining the kingdom above the levels of starvation. But I am losing him now, and that, Sarah, is why I need you. I need your dreams to sustain my world."

She pulled the blanket up around her ears for comfort. "Is that why that orchard and the watermill just kind of – popped into existence when I got here the second time?"

"Yes. It manifested in response to the infusion of energy that your actual, physical presence provided. You gave my realm its current form; it is connected to you. At the time being, you are our portal to the human world." He tilted his head to look at the dark night sky overhead. "It is a lovely dream."

"I – you're going to have to explain that. I don't think I understand."

She half expected a snappy response but the King's expression was surprisingly patient as he replied. "Everyone dreams, Sarah. Some dreams are beautiful. Some are nightmares of such cruelty that in the end, they consume their dreamers or send them screaming into catatonia and madness. Most dreams, however – are plain. Mundane. Wistful little bubbles of thought. Erotic fantasies. Idle what-if speculations and little scenes of wish fulfilment or pleasure. I give this world shape based on dreams. In recompense for what I take I make the dream real. Your adolescent fantasies were strong and even when you broke free of my spell you kept your dream alive. When you turned away to pursue your life in the human world your brother called upon me in your place. But I am losing him now in the same way that I eventually lost you. He is growing up and he wants to make his dreams come true in his own world." He paused. "This fairytale realm of allusions and humorous creatures amuses me. I have certainly spun far less pleasant realms. The creatures that inhabit this world plead with me to keep things as they are for a while longer."

Sarah mulled on his words for a while before asking, "What would I have to do?"

"Nothing much that you are not doing already. Simply spend time here."

"With you?"

"In the Underground. My company is optional."

Sarah fiddled with a corner of the blanket. "I don't know. Somehow this is just not in character for you, Goblin King. You're being far too calm and reasonable. There's something you're not telling me."

"I have told you far more than I intended. These ballroom dreams of yours have been somewhat inconvenient."

"Why?"

"If you can explore your feelings about me and the Underground in the safety of your own mind, what need do you have to come here to do so? If I cannot lure you here I must ask." The King made a small, impatient gesture as if shrugging off an inconvenience.

"You really are a manipulative bastard."

"I am what I am. I told you once, I can be generous. Spend time here off and on, and the Underground keeps its current form. Decline my offer, and it will fade. The choice is entirely yours." He stood, cloak sweeping around his ankles.

"What happens to my friends if I refuse?"

"Nothing happens to them. Nothing. At all. When I find another dream to intrigue me, they will inhabit that. You will be a lingering memory of a fading dream long gone."

Sarah rose as well and wriggled out of the blanket, folding it before she put it back down on the bench. "I'd like to go home now, please. I need to think about this."

"Don't make me wait too long," he replied crisply before the world fell into a crystalline, glittering haze.

  



	13. You Fantasy Geeks Are All Nuts

Sarah found herself back in her living room, traces of glitter sparkling and fading around her. She headed straight for the kitchen, and took out a new mug to replace the one she had dropped in transport. Gods only know where it had ended up, probably in the Labyrinth's vast junk yard. She filled it with coffee. She gulped down the entire mug and filled it again, this time adding a generous amount of sugar before sitting down at her desk. All the time Anastasia sat on the sofa, watching her.

After a while, and half a mug of caffeinated sugar, Sarah grit out, "Next time you get told to fetch me, ask me first."

"Okay." The goblin girl seemed unbothered.

"Promise, Anastasia. You'll never ever transport me again without my explicit consent."

She tilted her head. "Are you mad at me, Sarah?"

"No. I'm mad at your king."

"Why?"

She downed another mouthful of syrup. "Because he's got a rotten, superior, condescending, all-knowing, arrogant attitude, that's why. I want to kick his glittery ass. It's not fair, but that's the way it is."

Anastasia nodded. That was practically goblin gospel.

Sarah sighed and turned to her laptop. "I shouldn't have uninstalled Medal of Honour," she muttered. "I could totally do with some mindless violence right now." She rummaged through her games folder looking for something of suitable levels of gore when she noticed the blinking MSN icon. She clicked on it, entertaining a brief hope that whoever was pestering now was someone she could yell at. In all caps and with poor spelling.

The message read, "Hi" – without punctuation. Did she know anyone named Leggylas?

Oh, hang on. Blue elf chick. Sarah added the contact and typed back, "Hello?"

The message window informed her that the person on the other end was typing and Sarah finished off her sugary coffee and checked her email. When the window pinged at her again, she read, "Hi, my name is Sharon, I got your address from your studio, I hope that's okay, I'm Toby's friend, thank you so much for the picture, it's awesome, can we talk?" Each sentence formed a paragraph of its own and none of them had punctuation except the question mark at the end of the last.

Oh, they'd have slapped a label with the studio name and address on the back of the print, of course. Sarah did not feel like making conversation but this was the girl her brother was all worked up about. She responded with her phone number. She was not going to have an online conversation with someone who had managed to go through school without being introduced to punctuation.

The phone rang and she picked up. "Sarah Williams."

"Hi, I'm Sharon," a shy voice said on the other end. "Are you Toby's girlfriend?"

"I'm his sister."

"Oh thank god," the girl on the other end said with obvious relief. "I've been so worried. He wants to meet me and I was so scared that maybe I was breaking something up when I saw the signature on the painting."

Sarah had to smile. "No worries. Toby talks about you as his girlfriend so you're pretty safe." Behind her on the sofa, Anastasia was all unsubtle ears.

"Really?" She could almost hear the blush. "Anyway, I really don't want to take your time but it's just that I don't know what to say, everyone's always saying you shouldn't meet someone just like that but I really want to."

"Toby's pretty harmless unless you're a pizza."

"My friend says she'll go with me but I had to know whether, you know, Toby and you – anyway, would you come too? Then it'd be like, four people and it wouldn't be so weird, we'd just be people hanging out or something."

"Doooooo it," Anastasia mouthed silently.

"Tell you what," Sarah told the nervous girl. "I'll call Toby and see what he thinks. Can he call you back?"

"No! I mean, no, that's not so good, I'm not allowed to give out my number."

Sarah peeked at the display of her phone. Sure enough, anonymous caller ID. "Okay, fine, he can catch you online, how's that?"

"Yeah, okay. Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you!"

"No worries," Sarah said again and hung up. Then she dialled Toby's cellphone.

"Myallo?"

"Heya Tobes. It's me."

"Oh hey, sis, what's up?" She could hear the sound of people talking in the background; he was probably on a bus somewhere.

"Oh, nothing much, it's just that your girlfriend just called and invited me out on a date," she teased.

For a moment there was silence on the other end. Then, loudly, "What?"

Anastasia and Sarah both had to laugh. "Sharon called me. She got my email from the studio and hit me up on MSN. I gave her my number and she called me. She wants to meet me. Oh, and I'm supposed to drag you along, of course."

"Oh god, really? For real, Sarah? My god, what did you do to her? I've been trying for weeks to get her to agree to meeting somewhere."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't sound so desperate," she teased again. "Her friend's going to be there too. She's going to talk to you online tonight so you can set up some time and place. Make it afternoon or I'll have to hurt you, you know I paint in the morning."

"You are the best big sister ever!" Toby's enthusiasm shone through. She could picture him practically dancing around with the cellphone in glee. "I'm gonna hurry home!"

"Actually I was going to ask if you could come over here," she interrupted his attempt to end the conversation. "You can log in from my laptop so you don't miss her, but I really need to talk."

* * *

Like all boys and young men, Toby possessed an innate ability to turn up at the exact instant that Sarah took the warm buns out of the oven. She cheated and used a ready mix, just add water and bake, mentally defending herself to the imagined beratings of Karen who would never subject her household to such easy solutions. Anastasia was slicing cheese – like all goblins, shiny things such as cheese slicers fascinated her – when Toby locked himself in and followed his nose.

"Yo, Tobes," Sarah greeted him. "Pour the tea, will you?"

"Is that food?"

"Well, it's definitely not camel dung."

"Yay! Food!" He took out three mugs, one for each, and sat down. Anastasia sat down on the table itself rather than on a chair. Given her diminutive size this saved her stacking books to sit on.

Sarah distributed hot buns and began to butter hers. "So."

"Oh yeah." Toby opened the lid on her laptop and signed into the MSN chat just in case Sharon was early. "You sounded like something serious."

Anastasia carefully placed two slices of cheese on her bun with her pinkies sticking out lady-like. Then she bit into the result with the dignity and grace of a feral boar.

"Yeah, you can say that. I just had an audience with His Highness and I am seriously pissed off." Sarah poured sugar into her tea. "I managed not to scream at him. Barely. Is he always so infuriating?"

Toby shrugged. "Sometimes. You get used to it. What did he do?"

"I'm sorry," Anastasia inserted, face full of crumbs.

"It's okay, Anna. It's not you I'm grouchy with. You were just doing as you were told." Sarah smiled at the goblin girl and then looked back at her brother. "He wants me to spend time in the Underground. He gave me a speech about dreams and how they're the lifeblood of his kingdom. I kind of see how that works."

"But?" Toby prompted and sliced another bun.

"But his attitude drives me insane! He might as well have threatened to toss the gang into an oubliette if I don't do what he says to do!"

"Eep," Anastasia said, munching.

Toby snickered. "Yeah, well. That's His Tightness for you. Let me guess. He was being all calm and reasonable except that you could tell that if you went and did something else, you'd really, really not like the outcome?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"He's pissed off too, then. That's how he gets when he's not in charge of everything. I'd ignore it, he'll get over it."

"Meh."

Toby just shrugged again. "He hates not being on top of everything. It doesn't suit his self image to have to say 'please'. I didn't think he'd actually try to get back in touch with you, sis, but it makes sense enough. I've been busy with school and Sharon and stuff, I guess the place's just running low on dream juice. You don't have to care what he wants, it's not like he can force you to do anything. Hell, if there's anyone he can't bully around it's you."

Sarah pushed her bun around. "He told me that I was the connection to the human world. He said that without me, the Underground might fade away."

Anastasia nodded and swiped another slice of cheese. "That's how it is."

"Yeah, but what happens?"

The goblin girl squirmed. "Dunno. We just go somewhere else. Don't remember much. Please don't go away, Sarah. I like being a goblin."

Sarah all but growled. "See? If that's not blackmail I don't know what is. I swear, Anastasia, I'm doing what that self-absorbed piece of sparkly self-indulgence wants but I'm doing it for you guys. Not for him."

* * *

Amanda Jackson preferred to take her lunches in the coffee shop across the street with her friend Sarah. Her friend being the breezy artist that she was, however, did not come into the studio every day. Every so often Amanda only had herself and a good book for company. She always made certain to pack what she considered to be a good book. Something paperback, well written, and speculative, to serve as a counterweight to all the sappy romantic crap she had to read at work. Every now and then one of the manuscripts were good but for every piece worth editing and publishing there was a hundred that deserved only fire, lots of fire.

Today was one of those days. Amanda was eating pasta salad with chicken with her nose in her book when she noticed that someone else had taken the seat across from her. She did not mind as such, the coffee shop was small and sometimes crowded. What captured her attention was the burnt umber leather jacket with the high collar. she had seen that before. She closed her book and looked up at the blonde guy Sarah had issues with when she wasn't dreaming about being his Cinderella.

"Hello, Amanda," he purred. No, really, he reminded her of a lazy cat stretching out nonchalantly in a warm spot.

"Heya hotpants," she greeted him back. "Sarah isn't gonna show up today so if you're looking to crash into her accidentally a second time you're gonna have to rework your schedule."

"Oh, it's you I want to see," he smiled, leaning back on his chair.

"Saggitarius, thirty-eight, no kids, no steady boyfriend, and I don't do laundry."

He chuckled. "You are very direct. I see what Sarah likes about you."

Amanda flashed him a smirk and hunted through her pasta for a bit of chicken. "So what's the occasion?"

"I am curious. I gather that Sarah has a marriage behind her."

"Mm-hm. And you haven't thought about asking her about that?"

He tilted his head slightly. "She is – not receptive at the time being."

"You managed to piss her off already? Gotta hand it to you, hotpants, you move quick."

His thin lips twitched into a small smile. "I've a certain talent for ticking that particular lady off, it appears."

Amanda shrugged. "Sucks to be you. If Sarah thinks you need to know about her ex she'll tell you. I sure as hell don't go behind my friends' backs like that, and if you thought I would then you're as big an asshole as she seems to think you are."

"Touché. What I wanted to ask, however, was whether she is seeing anyone at the time being. I wouldn't want to – get in the way."

She rubbed at her eyes, careful not to ruin her mascara. "Fair enough. I don't think there's anyone special at the moment. Though there's a couple of guys at the studio who might be open to the general idea."

He steepled his fingers. "Sarah does not strike me as the kind of woman who appreciates – flings."

"Sarah doesn't do one night stands if that's what you're asking. If you've got commitment issues or a wife back home you might as well pack up and leave town on the first bus out. What's your name, anyway? I can't go on calling you hotpants."

"Call me Gancanagh," he replied.

"Gancannor? What kind of name is that? Somebody from Tolkien? Oh, I get it. It's Welsh, right? Geez, you fantasy geeks are all nuts."

'Gancannor' raised an eyebrow. "Irish, as a matter of fact."

"You can call yourself Johnny Appleseed if you like, mister. Anyway, I have to get out of here, lunch break's over. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"I suspect you might," he grinned and remained seated as she walked out.

  



	14. The Peacock is a Very Regal Bird

After Toby had finally had his MSN conversation with his maybe-girlfriend, set up a date and a place, and wandered off again, Sarah focused on work for several days. She managed to lay out the number of illustrations needed for the elf book and sketch them. She got most of the backgrounds gone, using merry greens and bright blues to give a cheerful air that would appeal to the young target audience. She wanted to capture some of the mischief of her goblin models but that was for later when she would start painting in the characters, adding a glint to an eye here and a smirk there. The best part about painting and sleeping in turns without much distraction was that it allowed her time to think and probe her own feelings.

Surprisingly, she did not dream of the crystal ballroom that night. Instead, she had mundane, ordinary dreams that allowed her to wake rested and without a blush, be it of anger or – otherwise. She found time to actually cook and eat a proper dinner and watch the news on TV, doodling as she did so. Her pen wandered freely over the sketch pad, stroking this way and that. A bird began to take shape, a beautiful peacock with his tail spread out. She could already see the colours she would use in her mind, sparkling shades of green and metallic blue, with dabs of rusty red to offset the brilliance. And then it was no longer a bird but a cloak and yet she found herself unable to resist the temptation to continue.

It was eight in the morning when the doorbell rang. Sarah realised that she had pulled an all-nighter with her thoughts and the peacock. The peacock drawing, she corrected herself as she got up to answer. Fortunately not the real thing.

"I come bearing presents," Amanda announced as she slipped into the apartment, holding out a paper bag like she expected it to save her life. "You cannot kill the bearer of bagels."

Sarah giggled and closed the door behind her friend. "Don't you have work today?"

"Myeah, but I'm ahead of schedule and if I come in before noon Will's bound to find out and we all know how that ends. I have no need to be saddled with another pile of wannabe Jay Kay Rowlings so I figured I'd come harass you instead." She flopped herself down at the kitchen table looking at the coffee machine expectantly.

Sarah poured water into it and turned it on. "Well, if Will asks, you can tell him I'm on schedule. The paintings are going fine."

Amanda shrugged and peered at the laptop. "Hoo boy. Wowzers. I'd so tap that."

Sarah blushed vermilion. "Er. Yeah. I was just doodling."

"Honey, that's not a doodle. That's a full-sized poster waiting to be printed. Or raped."

She had to admit that the doodle stopped being just a doodle at the point where she had scanned it and started inking and colouring on the laptop. In careful lines, almost art nouveau style, she had captured the Goblin King's likeness when he was at his most seductive and villainous. Looking up through heavy lashes he was wearing a full-sized cloak made from peacock feathers. It flowed lightly around his lithe frame, contrasting with the dark blue draperies and sandstone columns of a ballroom that never existed. He made a slight bow towards the viewer as if inclining to ask for a dance. His eyes offered a challenge and a promise, not of happily ever after. Quite possibly of a lot of interesting physical experiences in the meantime. "I'm not really sure what happened. I was just doodling and then it turned into a peacock, and that kind of turned into, well, that."

"Rawr."

"It suits him. He's vain as hell."

Amanda grinned broadly and reached for a mug. "Speak of the devil, by the way, you can guess who I ran into in the coffee shop the other day."

Sarah blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. He wasn't dressed that outrageously, though –" she gestured at the peacock drawing. "Fortunately. If he had been I might have been arrested for assault and indecent exposure. Anyhow, he was sniffing you out, baby."

Sarah distributed coffee and flopped down on her chair, inhaling its scent and promises of wakefulness. "Oh."

"Okay, that was a bit less enthusiasm than I was expecting. He wanted to know about Rob. I told him that if he wanted to know anything about you he could go straight to the horse's mouth. What's his name, by the way? I asked him but he fed me some Celtic bullshit."

"Maybe I should hire you as my bodyguard to keep me safe from manipulative, handsome bastards. What bullshit?"

Amanda shrugged. "Gancannor or something along those lines. Hey, did you try that dream thing I suggested?"

"Yeah. It seems to have done the trick. I haven't had any more ballroom dreams since, at least."

"Is that good or bad?"

Sarah smiled. "It's good. It's so much more gratifying to shout at the jerk face to face."

* * *

The afternoon sun shone down brilliantly on the park. The resident swan couple circled on the small lake, occasionally dipping in under the bridge only to emerge on the other side a moment later. The occasional jogger trotted along and a boy was playing frisbee with a yellow labrador dog. Everything breathed peace and sleepy small-town tranquillity. Sarah settled on her favourite bench and pulled her coat up around her ears. It was a beautiful day but the breeze was playful and chilly, and quite intent on undoing her ponytail.

And then there was a soft humming in her ear, a low and pleasant sound without words. She took her eyes off the lake and the swans and looked to her side where the Goblin King sprawled on the bench next to her, smiling. A few sparkles of glitter residue from his magical transportation were still fading. Wearing jeans and a body hugging black turtleneck under a bomber jacket he looked decidedly different from anything she might have expected of him. Even the make-up was gone and he had made a half-hearted attempt to tame his hair in a ponytail at the base of the neck. The result was not displeasing, if still somewhat on the eccentric side.

Upon seeing Sarah's eyes widen the King gestured at his attire. "Well?"

"It's... different." Oh, he looked good enough to eat. At the same time, it lacked a certain something magical, glittery, flamboyant, egocentric, and altogether Goblin King.

"Perhaps I should wear that cape you designed for me last night. I rather liked it. The peacock is a very regal bird, if not particularly bright."

She grimaced. "For someone who allegedly can't spy on my apartment you're remarkably well informed, Goblin King."

"Come, come, Sarah. You should know by now that I feel it when you think of me so hard for so long."

Sarah turned back to look at the lake lest a certain somebody spot the faint flush of her cheeks. She had focused for a long time on his body shape and build in her mind while painting the peacock costume. She had done so in order to get the proportions and costume right. Obviously. For some reason she felt like she had snuck in to watch him in the shower. "Why are you here?"

He studied his fingers through the ever present gloves. "Curiosity. You're still upset with me."

"I don't like feeling blackmailed or pressured into doing something. It's not fair. I know it's the way it is, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. We're going to be having a talk about this later."

The King raised his chin to look over Sarah's shoulder. "Now is not the proper time."

She glanced at the approaching figure of her brother and nodded. "Just don't think you're off the hook, Goblin King."

"Hello!" Toby was panting like he had run from his pick-up to the centre of the park; he probably had. He had attempted to tame his yellow mane without success and wore a faded t-shirt that read "EPIC" with an arrow pointing up. "Have you waited long? Are they here yet?"

"Just a couple of minutes," Sarah replied. "Please tell me that shirt is some in-joke that Sharon will find amusing."

"Yeah, it's a Warcraft joke, don't you start too, mom went on for twenty minutes about it," he groaned. "Do I look okay? I didn't want to look like it was a date or something, just casual like."

"You look fine, Tobes. Calm down."

"That's easy for you to say. What time is it?"

"Relax. You don't want to look all desperate, do you?"

"I am desperate!" Toby ran his hand through his hair, ruining any calming influence of his hairbrush earlier. He also shot a withering glare at the Goblin King whose silent smirk was a mile wide; it failed to have much effect.

* * *

Nicole sighed. Sharon stopped walking for the umpteenth time to look over her shoulder and pretended that she was checking her make-up in a shop window. She looked fine in her jeans and tank top, showing off youthful curves. If Tobias disapproved of her appearance, he'd be an idiot. She was running a risk of turning blue from the weather, but she had refused to wear a hoodie or jacket and cramp her style. "Oh, stop it," the darker girl growled. "You're procrastinating so bad he'll be in an old folks' home when we get there."

"Whatever," Sharon muttered. "At least you're not freezing your ass off."

"That's because I'm not walking around with bare arms. You look fine. Let's move."

The girls rounded a corner and walked into the town park, depriving Sharon of windows to pretend to check herself out in, much to Nicole's relief. They headed for the centre near the bridge; a nice, open space where they would be able to see who was coming and going.

"Oh crap, the bench's taken," Sharon mumbled.

"Hey, maybe that blond guy is Tobias. He looks the right age," Nicole observed.

"I hope not, 'cause then he brought his dad."

"Tacky."

The girls stood for a moment, stealing looks at the others. The blond youth in particular was stealing looks back. He was kind of hot, Nicole figured. Tall and lanky, with shaggy yellow hair. "Hey, look, blondie's wearing a Warcraft tee. That's definitely him."

As if on cue the other three stood and walked towards them. A dark-haired woman smiled and offered, "Hello, would either of you girls be Sharon?"

"Yeah," Sharon mumbled.

"I'm Nicole, I'm just here for the ride," Nicole offered cheekily.

The lady's green eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, I'm Sarah and this big lout here is Toby. He can talk but usually we have to bribe him with a biscuit."

On cue, the young man blushed. "Hi, er, nice to meet you."

"And this is – " Sarah faltered.

"Jay," Toby picked up quickly. "He's a family friend from out of town. We didn't want to leave him at home, god knows what he'd get up to."

Jay nodded at the girls from his perch on the bench. He had 'wants to be hip with the kids' stamped all over him, Nicole decided. Either that or he was the art director of some fancy advertising agency.

"So, like, I'd really like to say thank you for the painting," Sharon bubbled, like someone who has been holding her breath the last minute. "It's really pretty, I wish I could draw like that."

"It was Toby's idea," Sarah smiled at her brother. "I'm glad you like it."

Toby ran a hand through his hair; it looked like a nervous habit. "I'm not usually this quiet, honest. I'm just – it's surreal, seeing you in the flesh. You're really here."

Sharon's cheeks turned pink. "I know, right?"

"How about a stroll around the lake?" Sarah suggested.

"I'm up for that," Nicole agreed quickly.

"Shut your mouth before you start to catch flies, Toby."

"Okay, Jay."

The three of them took the lead, letting Toby and Sharon fall a few steps behind. They strolled down the gravel path winding its way between the trees of the banks of the small river that fed the lake. When Nicole looked over her shoulder a minute later, neither of them had moved yet. She sighed audibly and looked at the two older people. "So you two are together?"

"Only when she doesn't see me first," Jay smirked. His crisp British accent was surprisingly pleasant on the ear.

"Oh, please," Sarah quipped. "Give me some credit for taste. Jay's a writer, and everyone knows they make no money."

Nicole gave the guy a second look-over. Yeah, writer would work too. Eccentric types, writers. "Have you written anything I would have read?"

He shook his head. "Sarah's giving me too much credit. I mostly rehash old fairytales into a modern setting."

"Fairytales? Like Hansel and Gretel?"

"Horrible story. Abandoned children, starvation and poverty, attempted infanticide, cannibalism, and let's not forget about the poor witch, burned to death with her own cooking utensils. Stephen King could have a field day with it."

Nicole laughed and then glanced back. Sharon and Tobias – Toby, she corrected herself – had begun to walk, ever so slowly, neither of them making any effort to catch up. Sharon was explaining something with great enthusiasm, waving her hands in the air. Toby was laughing and nodding. "Oh, I bet they got started on mounts," she commented. "Once you get Sharon going on that game there's no shutting her up."

"You don't play?" Sarah inquired.

"Off and on but Sharon's the gamer geek in this outfit. She can blow an entire night at the computer and then act like she's surprised that it's the next day."

"A modern fairytale," Jay observed. "Boy meets computer, girl meets computer, everyone lives happily ever after or until there is a power failure."

"Be nice," Sarah poked him in the ribs.

"Yes, yes. Anything you want, as always."

Sarah ignored the comment and turned to Nicole. "So, what do you and Sharon do for a living, anyhow? Are you still in school?"

  



	15. Hold the Cyanide

A small sigh of relief escaped Sarah's lips when the three younger people decided to drive off to have coffee downtown, without the chaperones. Sharon had overcome the worst of her initial shyness. The girls seemed nice enough but watching her usually confident brother gape and gawk like an adolescent with a crush was painful. She waved them off and began to stroll in the direction of her own car, letting "Jay" decide whether to keep up or stay behind.

He matched her pace nonchalantly. "Well, that was interesting."

"Awkward," Sarah agreed. "I didn't realise you read Stephen King."

"I have a lot of spare time."

She looked straight at him. "If you think fishing for gossip on me from my friends is going to win you any points then yes, yes, you do."

The King shrugged. "I'm somewhat short on other options to learn more about what you've been doing the last twenty years. Toby has always refused to talk about you."

"Good boy. I'll have to bake him a pie. Have you even considered the notion that I might not want you to know everything about me? That my personal life is none of your damn business in the first place?"

"No, not really."

"Well, maybe you should start believing it. You've got me in a situation where I have to do what you want to keep my friends safe – hell, to keep them alive. That does not mean you get to interfere with my life as you see fit. You do not get to interrogate my friends. You do not get any say whatsoever in who I decide to go out with or get involved with. If I decide to take some random stranger home and have mad monkey sex with him on the kitchen table all weekend it's. None. Of. Your. Business. Are we clear on that, Goblin King?"

"Crystal," he replied breezily. "I thought you preferred buffet tables anyhow."

First came the flushing and the embarrassment. Then her toes curling at the idea of him knowing what she had dreamt about him under that table. And then, the knee-jerk anger at the invasion of her subconscious' privacy. "I'm sure you enjoyed that."

He gave her a small, crooked smirk. "Not as much as I would have if I had been an active participant instead of just watching. The bit with the strawberries was quite intriguing."

She began to walk again. "I hate you."

"I've never thought of that particular use for avocado dip before, either."

"I -really- hate you."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

She face palmed. "You can -not- be a prat and quote Shakespeare at the same time. Don't you realise how embarrassing this is for me?"

He smirked again. "Come, come, Sarah. You think your fantasies are embarrassing? They are quite vanilla, I assure you."

"Oh, thank you, that makes me feel a lot better." She fumbled in her pocket for her car keys.

"Given some of the roles I have played over time it ought to. Well?"

"Well?"

"Well, are you going to offer me a ride?"

"What happened to glitter poofing?"

"Translocation does not let me continue watching you squirm and proclaim your hatred of me so amusingly."

"I hate you. Get in, then."

He did, and she backed the car out of the parking lot. "Where to?"

The Goblin King leaned back in the seat and shook his hair free of the ponytail. It burst free almost gleefully, returning to its normal, wild halo-like state of anarchy. "Wherever you please."

"Fine. In that case we're going to my place. I need coffee and I don't want to have an audience while I murder you and bury the remains under a nearby construction site." She trod on the speeder, causing the car to jerk forward.

Sarah unlocked her door and ushered her guest inside before he might catch the eyes of curious neighbours. She flung her coat on the rack and turned to take his, only to find that he already had wandered into the combined living room and kitchen. He was looking around with curiosity and interest. Touching nothing, the lord of the Labyrinth wandered around at seemingly random. He looked at the pictures on the walls and shelves, studirf the view out of her windows, and – well, if he had been a dog she would have said he was sniffing out the place, memorising everything.

"What are you doing?" she asked at length.

He ran one gloved finger along the edge of a counter top, as if looking for dust, then glanced at the magazines on the coffee table. "Looking."

"Yes, well, I can see that."

"This is the one place on the planet I cannot see when I want to. I'm curious."

Sarah paused in mid-stride towards the coffee machine. "Er, yes. About that. This is a one-time only invitation, you understand. And you have to leave when I tell you to."

He chuckled. "Yes, yes. I don't intend to poke around in your underwear drawer or read your diary either, Sarah."

"Good. I'd warn you against the carpet shark under the sofa but you're already acquainted." She turned the machine on and stood next to it, feeling a little awkward about the way he investigated the room so thoroughly, committing every little detail to memory. It felt like her entire life and the bric-a-brac of it that had washed ashore in her apartment was being silently evaluated.

The Goblin King gravitated towards the picture collection, touching one frame lightly. "Your husband?"

"Yeah. Well, ex-husband."

"You'll have to tell me about him sometime."

"Why? He's history."

The King flashed her a crooked smile. "He must have been quite somebody, to outshine -me-."

Sarah put the ceramic mugs down on the kitchen table a little harder than she intended to. "Well, somebody's certainly got a high opinion of himself."

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head, assuming an expression so inviting a slap or angry yelling that she could not resist snickering. Twenty years ago she would have gone ballistic at that challenging look. When he fluttered his eyelashes she had to laugh. "Okay, okay. Do you take anything in your coffee?"

"A drop of milk, hold the cyanide."

She handed him one mug and curled up on the sofa with the other. "So. About me and the Underground. What exactly do I need to do? Just spend time there? How do I get back and forth? How much time do I have to spend?"

"You're free to come and go as you please, except for my personal quarters. You can have your spirit guides take you, or you can go through the goblins' portal in your wardrobe. Some of the goblins are able to travel directly, as well – Anastasia among them. They will take you back and forth on request. As for how much time, I'm positive we can work out an agreement that meets my realm's requirements without disrupting your other life too much."

"My spirit guide? I thought Pish and Tosh were from the Underground."

The King shook his head. "No, that particular entity – or those particular entities – serve as your personal guides between worlds and planes of existence."

Sarah mulled on that for a minute. "So, if I was to venture that everyone has a spirit guide, how come mine are actually visible and sometimes physically in the room with me? That's not exactly – normal."

"Neither is seeing goblins."

"Good point. So, I can come and go as I please and I don't have to ask you for permission. I can do pretty much what I want, and you're not making any demands of me. That sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"Always so contrite." He tapped one finger against his lower lip in mock contemplation. "Ah, yes. I shall have to ask a favour for my generosity. You shall – " he paused dramatically, "– call me by name."

"Huh?" Not the most intelligent reply, but then, his request was not exactly what she had been expecting – or worrying about – either.

"Come, come, Sarah. You do know my name. I have heard you use it, in your dreams."

She winced. "And that's why I'm in the habit of calling you something else. Okay. I'll try to remember – Jareth."

He put the empty coffee mug down on the table and stood. "And on that note I will take my leave. After all, answering all your questions here would be rather counter-productive to my goal, would it not?"

Sarah got up as well and wondered whether she should move as if to walk him to the door. "I suppose so. I know where you live."

He smirked. "That sounds delightfully like a threat. Goodbye, Sarah."

"Goodbye – oh man," she said to the fading after-image in front of her. "Would it be too much to ask for to at least use the door?"

* * *

Toby, being of the male persuasion and accustomed to his daily dose of fantasy being quite literal, in the flesh, and usually in full swing dismantling something, was not one to go for romantic movies or dreamy tunes. He was usually a quite down to earth kind of guy. He was careful not to get caught talking to people and things that only he could see. He was possessed of a practical mindset. Except today. Today, he felt, it would be entirely appropriate if he had pink fairy wings and flitted instead of walking. There ought to be cheerful music, something with violins, singing birds Disney style, and of course, buckets of glitter. In other words, he was high as a kite on happiness and having survived meeting Sharon in the flesh, and he knew it.

He also knew that there is always a bigger fish, or in this case, predatory bird. Its name was Mom and it was hovering in the living room, waiting to pounce on him and squeeze every detail of the date from his quivering limbs. He grinned as he turned the door knob. Sure enough, he could hear the heels of his mother's pumps emerging from the kitchen. "I'm home," he announced cheerfully.

"Hello, dear," his mother called out, trying to restrain her expression, which was taking on certain vulture-like qualities.

"So, what's for dinner?"

"What was she like?"

"I'm hungry," he whined.

"Toby. Tell me everything right this instant or I swear to God I will burst a vein!"

Toby laughed and caved, ambling kitchen wards and talking over his shoulder. "She's gorgeous, mom. Her hair's kind of medium brown and she has grey eyes and she's kind of small."

"Mm-hm. What did she dress like?"

"Oh, come on. I'm a guy. I don't notice those things. She wasn't wearing sack cloth." He began to prepare a peanut butter sandwich, absentmindedly grabbing a new butter knife when the first disappeared, no doubt to be licked clean by some enterprising goblin's raspy tongue. "She's not movie star pretty but she's cute in a kind of way that makes you want to pick her up and cuddle her. Like a little bunny rabbit. Terribly shy, too."

His mother circled him like a shark at a free-for-all swimming pool buffet. "What does she do for a living? Is she in school?"

"Yeah, she studies computer science."

"That's a strange degree for a girl to be studying for."

"Welcome to the 21st century, mom."

"Ha. Ha. Put the lid back on the jar when you're done, Toby. And you'll be bringing that girl over for dinner one of these days, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear like you were standing right next to me, mom." He waved his homework as an excuse and made a quick escape upstairs to nibble on his sandwich and resume basking in the fluffy pink clouds of young love.

* * *

Goblins and chickens scattered wide as their king appeared in the middle of his throne room in a swirl and a puff of sparkles. The bomber jacket turned ankle-length black cape flowing around him. It crackled as he turned swiftly, took in the room, and threw himself on his throne, all in one fluid movement of graceful indifference to who- or whatever didn't get out of his way fast enough. An egg rolled across the floor, no doubt dropped by either a surprised goblin or an even more surprised hen, coming to a halt in front of the stairs.

Familiar with their sovereign's mercurial moods, twenty-six goblins tilted their heads and listened for orders. The twenty-seventh grabbed the egg and swallowed it whole, shell and all. "Bring me Sir Didymus!" the Goblin King exclaimed.

A couple of goblins exchanged glances and then ran off in various directions. Jareth looked at the remaining flock. "Well?"

"Oh!"

"He means us too!"

"I dropped my egg!"

"Ribbit!"

When only one remained, still sucking egg yolk from its teeth, he picked it up by the scruff of its neck and tossed it out the window. He grinned to himself at the imminent thud and muffled curse from below. Then he sank back on the throne, draped one leg over one armrest and one arm behind his neck and looked up at the domed sandstone ceiling through half-closed eyelids. He did not stop reminiscing about the fire in enraged green eyes until he was called back to reality by the noise of clawed paws padding into the throne room.

"Stay, Ambrosius!" A bit of shuffling as the fox goblin exited his saddle and ordered his faithful steed to wait – which it was happy to do, on the nearest vacant blanket still warm from a goblin's body heat.

"Sire, I await thy bidding." Sir Didymus bowed low before the throne, beautiful tail swishing rakishly.

Jareth righted himself in his seat and studied the little creature. "I have a task for you, my good knight," he said at length. "One to which you are particularly well suited."

The fox' whiskers twitched. "A quest for my liege! I shall fight for thee on the land, I shall fight in the water, I shall fight on the beaches, I shall fight in the fields, I shall fight in..." he scratched his chin. "Well, however the rest of that may go, my sense of smell is keen and I shall serve thee as thou dost bid!"

The King tilted his head. "Didymus, are you misquoting -Churchill- at me?"

Fortunately for the miniscule knight, his blush was not able to penetrate his russet fur.

Jareth's lips twitched into a small smile. "Nevermind. A damsel requires your special talents."

Sir Didymus straightened up to his full, unimpressive height and stared solemnly at his king's belt. "I shall rescue her! I shall protect her! I shall lay down my life for her!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure." Jareth flicked his wrist, calling a crystal orb into existence. Holding it out for the little knight to see he murmured, "This is Toby's special lady."

Didymus studied the mousy face in the crystal intently. "A jewel amidst rocks, a diamond in the rough, a – little pale?"

The King put the crystal in the fox goblin's paw and closed the other paw over it. "Keep it safe so you can recognise her anywhere, Didymus."

White whiskers twitched again. "Is she in danger, Sire? I'll – "

He was waved off before he could get started on another speech praising his own virtues and intentions. "Yes. I know you will, Didymus. That's why I'm sending you. Watch her, report to me if anything unusual happens, and, well, do whatever it is you do. Oh, and do remember your steed on the way out."

  



	16. Ripley Would Have Him for Breakfast

On Friday Sarah went in to work to show Will her progress on the elf project and check up on company affairs, business emails, and of course, water cooler gossip. When she spread out her prints, grainy as they were courtesy of her old jet-ink printer, Will was ecstatic. He shifted through them, picking one up to admire a detail, putting it down again, grabbing another, turning back, and generally behaving like a kid in a candy store or an editor who knows that the next big customer paycheck is safely in the bag.

"Sarah, this is really well done. The way you've used that watermill in the background and the little cottages give a rustic feel. It's almost like you're seeing some remote village in England or Ireland but without any direct giveaways to the location. I have to say, you've outshone yourself this time."

Sarah beamed. "I'm not done with the finer details, as you can tell, but I've had a lot of fun with the backgrounds and sceneries."

"It shows! This is a happy children's story with a lot of little quirks and details, and that spirit is what the customer wants. I love how you just leave little surprises everywhere. Like that chicken in the window and the elf that's chasing a rat over here. The grins on the faces of the elves on this one makes me want to feel my pocket for things gone missing."

"That'd probably be a good idea."

"Is that a butterfly net this one is using to chase the cat with?"

"Yep. Didn't you know that butterfly nets are perfect for catching cats?"

"The net is smaller than the cat, though."

"That's what makes it fun." She nodded . Twenty years with goblins taught you a thing or two about their upside down, sideways tilted brand of logic.

Will grinned. "I'll have to try that some day. Sarah, this is an editor's wet dream. You're on time, and your work is great. What can I do to make you as happy as you've made me?"

"I take bribes in the form of chocolate and caffeine."

"Well, then I'm going to have to ask you out, aren't I? I do happen to know a small Italian place that has the best espresso on the face of the planet."

"Well, I'm not doing anything this afternoon – "

"No, no. If I'm asking you out, Sarah Williams, I'm doing it properly. Will you consent to dine with me at Luigi's on Wednesday? I'll pick you up at your place and take you home after, too."

She blinked at him owlishly. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"No shop talk," he tempted. "Just good pasta and world class espresso."

Will was a handsome man. He was a good man to work for, too. He had a keen sense of humour. He had worked as an artist himself. He shared a lot of her interests and understood a fair number of her work related problems. He also had his feet solidly on the ground and an easy-going nature. He had children already and a messy divorce behind him. One that had led to several rants on his behalf about how he had no desire to move into a close relationship again anytime soon. She'd be an idiot not to give this a chance. Men who weren't clingy and who were willing to take things slow and easy and as they came didn't exactly grow on trees.

She wondered what the Goblin King would have to say about that.

Sarah took out her time planner and made a little show of writing "Dinner, No Job Talk" on the entry for Wednesday. "You're on." Then she threw her editor a smile and scooped up her art prints.

* * *

Despite her solemn vow that she was not going to do exactly that, Sarah could not resist the urge to scan the coffee shop for wild blond hairdos as she and Amanda slunk inside. Not a glittery trace of goblin royalty was present, however, and she breathed a small sigh of relief as the two women found seats. Amanda ordered pasta salad for them both before turning to Sarah with a predatory grin. "So how did Toby's big date go?"

Sarah laughed. "They came, they saw, they talked gibberish for an hour while the rest of us sort of politely waited around. It was clearly love at first sight."

"The rest of you?"

"Yeah, Sharon's friend and – mister handsome bastard."

Amanda arched an eyebrow. "I swear, that guy is stalking you."

"I think that's a given by now," Sarah agreed.

"So, does Hotpants have a real name or am I really supposed to refer to him as John Connor? I will make bad Schwarzenegger jokes at him until he cringes and begs for mercy. I'll be bach and you can be Mozart, that sort of thing."

Sarah groaned. "Come with me if you want to live?"

"Hasta la vista, baby. Awesome movie, though. In spite of Schwarzenegger."

"Heh, yeah. It's not John Connor or Hancock, though, it's Gean-canach and it's a pretty horrid joke."

"Care to clue me in?"

She took her plate from the waitress. "It's an Irish legend. The Gean-canach is a faerie who preys on young women who walk out alone. He seduces them with sweet words and kills them or takes them away to the faerie lands. He represents the dangers of idleness and love, I suppose."

"If this guy is trying to make an impression on you, he must be pretty dense to compare himself to some kind of leprechaun Bluebeard."

Sarah shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in his head. His name is Jareth. Toby calls him Jay sometimes, though."

Amanda dug around her pasta for the bits of tuna. "So, has he asked you out yet?"

"Nope. Will did this morning, though."

"Really? No kidding? I didn't think he'd ever find the balls to do that."

Sarah sipped her mineral water. "Nothing fancy. Just dinner and coffee at some Italian place."

"You will tell me everything, and if nothing romantic or sexy happens, you will make it up for my entertainment."

"You want details of Will's sex life?"

"Coming to think of it... Yeah, give me lots of dirt, but replace Will with Gareth."

Sarah laughed. "You really have taken a shine to him, haven't you?"

Amanda smirked. "No, I just like kicking a man who's already lying down. Something about that guy makes me want to see him squirm. Nobody should be allowed to prance around looking that confident. Also, he -is- better looking than Will, and he's not my boss."

* * *

"I'm not watching that!"

"Come on, Sarah, it's an awesome film. Alien is cult!" Toby pleaded, waving the dvd cassette. Saturday night family dinner had been interrupted by a sudden invitation to a housewarming party. Sarah and Toby had the house to themselves, and plenty of pizza.

"I don't care. It creeped me out when I was a kid. I'm not watching it," his sister shot back. Several goblins perched on the sofa, watching the siblings argue like spectators at a tennis match.

"Geez, Louise, by today's standards it's almost Disney. What were you doing watching something like that as a kid anyhow?"

Sarah stole a handful of popcorn from the bowl that Truff and Elmo were holding on to. "I wasn't. I read the comic book version. It freaked me the hell out when the alien came out of that guy's chest. I never actually watched the damn movie and I don't want to watch it now."

Her brother rolled his eyes. "And you're how old again?"

"Whatever. I like the sequel. The sequels. I think I like number three best, actually, although clone Ripley kicks ass too."

"Nah, the second movie is the best. Vasquez is my kind of girl."

"Does Sharon know she needs to pick up a pulse rifle and a Hispanic accent?"

"Beats a riding crop and a British drawl, doesn't it?"

"Ooh," Truff squeaked.

"Them's fighting words," Octavius agreed and stuffed popcorn into his baseball cap.

"He," Sarah picked up a pillow from the sofa. "Is," she aimed it at Toby's head. "Not my boyfriend." Thwack. "Besides. Ripley would have him for breakfast."

Toby ducked, too late, and emerged from under the pillow, laughing. "You think Ripley is awesome but you don't want to watch the movie that made the character famous?"

"Damn straight. Ellen Ripley was a goddess to my generation. A strong female character who wasn't in the movie to fall in love with some male lead and live happily ever after or be rescued in the last minute by Captain Hero. It doesn't hurt that Sigourney Weaver was gorgeous."

"Even bald?"

"Yeah, even bald." Sarah stuck her tongue out, and then turned to the assembly on the sofa. "What do you guys want to watch?"

"Xena!"

"Yeah!"

"Warrior Princess!"

"A mighty princess forged in the heat of battle!"

Sarah rolled her eyes at them. "You're not tired of that show yet?"

The goblins shook their heads energetically.

"Okay, Xena it is," Toby consented and replaced the dvd cassette before hitting play. He and Sarah both snickered as the gang chanted along with the show's introductory voice-over. 'In a time of ancient gods, warlords, and kings...'.

"They're strong women characters too," Toby observed about the dark-haired warrior princess and her blonde sidekick. "Although you have to wonder about their wardrobes."

"Yi-yi-yiiiii!"

"Ack, Octavius, don't do that next to my ears," Sarah groused. "Fighting in a miniskirt was apparently all the rage in ancient Greece, along with razor edged frisbees."

"Chakram," Truff supplied helpfully.

"Whatever. Blue jeans and sneakers, now, there's a sensible apparel for the modern adventuress." Sarah reached for the popcorn and found that it had been emptied out already. Glancing at the coffee table for alternatives she noticed that no one had touched the fruit bowl. "Hey, I thought Didymus was coming over tonight?"

Toby shrugged. "Must have been caught up doing something else. You know Sir Dee, wave something shiny and he's in rapture."

"Sir Didymus is on a mission," Octavius supplied, stressing the word with a hush of secresy. "From the King."

"Guarding a bridge?"

"Nahuh." The goblin looked smug in the way of someone who knows a secret.

"He got ordered to give Ambrosius a bath?" Toby suggested.

"Mmmmmph-uh." Octavius mimed zipping his lips.

"He's gone to see the pretty lady," Truff said.

Octavius swatted him over the head. "It's a secret!"

"What pretty lady is that?" Sarah asked.

Neither goblin said a word.

"Guys," Toby prodded.

Every goblin present was silent like a silent clam in a silent ocean beneath a silent sky.

The siblings exchanged looks. "Oh well," Sarah shrugged. "Whatever that's all about, you know Didymus and women. He'd rather rip his own tail off than do something offensive."

Toby nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Yi-yi-yiiiii!"

"Octavius!"

* * *

Hopscotch was cleaning his fur carefully with a plastic comb that missed most of its teeth. He went about his personal grooming with great enthusiasm, though, seated on the sill of the window in the highest tower of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. The comb had a sparkly, metallic sticker of a mermaid on it, and he was very fond of it. A barn owl landed silently on the window sill next to the goblin who looked quite unperturbed by the disturbance. When the owl leapt off the sill and became the Goblin King before its claws – now booted feet – touched down on the sandstone floor, Hopscotch tucked the comb away and looked at his master.

Jareth stretched his back, hands on his hips, glowering. "Women," he muttered. "Can't live within them, can't live without them."

Hopscotch shrugged.

The King glared daggers at the goblin. "After everything I have done to make her feel comfortable with the role she has to play. Everything I have said, everything I have done – I practically begged her to spend time here!"

Hopscotch shrugged again. All his mate ever asked of him was fresh eggs.

"What does that editor have that I do not?"

"Dark hair," Hopscotch suggested. "Not so much of it, though."

Jareth slapped his palm against his own forehead and dragged the fingers down dramatically as if trying to claw his own face off in frustration. "Courtship by coffee? It's bloody ridiculous!"

"She likes coffee."

"Yes, yes, I know she does," the King groaned.

"Give her oograh. Aways works."

Two-hued eyes pierced the little goblin with an expression so reminiscent of utter cluelessness that Hopscotch wondered if he had the pronounciation wrong. "Give her – what?" Jareth finally asked.

"Oograh. It's in one of the books Toby reads to us sometimes. The big troll loves another big troll and he gets her oograh and then she loves him and they move to the city and get married and he becomes a policeman with a huge crossbow."

"And what, pray tell, is this – oograh – exactly?"

"Weeds!"

"Hopscotch," the King drawled, "I am not going to walk up to Sarah, proclaim her likeness to a troll, and ask her if she wants to join me for some weed. Go play with the chickens and leave me to my misery-loaded monologuing."

"Yessir." Hopscotch vacated the window sill and exited the room with a bounce. He paused outside to listen to the sound of a crystal ball hitting a wall and falling to a thousand sparkly pieces.

  



	17. I Knew There Was a Catch

Pete Thompson was handsome in a kind of burly way. Nicole liked the way he let his brown hair hang loose under the hoodie, untamed and shaggy. One of his eyebrows was pierced with a thin silver ring, and he had brown eyes that could be deceptively warm and sensual. He was lean but well muscled under the clothing that hung upon him like casually thrown on from a distance. All in all, he was quite the catch if one was to judge solely by looks. Unfortunately, she thought, the contents didn't quite match the label.

He caught her by the elbow during a break between classes and Nicole turned to shoot him a drop dead look. "Hi Nick, how's it hanging?"

"I'm fine," she replied. There were several other students in the hallway and she had no intention of creating a scene in front of an audience.

"Have a nice weekend?"

"Yeah, it was fine."

"So, I was wondering."

"Yeah?"

"You happen to know if Sharon's seeing someone?"

Nicole groaned inwardly. "I don't see how that's any of your business if she does, Pete."

Brown eyes flared. "I just want to be sure he's treating her right."

"Whatever."

"Why are you always so uptight, Nick? You know I love her."

She leaned over and hissed in his ear, "You hit her, Pete."

He winced. "I didn't mean to. You know that. You know me, Nick. I'm not that kinda guy. I'm just going through some tough shit lately and things got out of control."

"Whatever," Nicole repeated, throwing her chin up and walking on. "I don't want to hear it." She could feel Pete's glare like two tiny lasers on her back as she walked.

* * *

"Okay, Anastasia, are you familiar with a small lilac grove in one of the castle gardens? There is a walkway above it. The place is kind of – dreamy, like it's not entirely solid."

The pig-faced goblin girl tilted her head, thought, and then nodded. "Yep. The King likes that place. That where you want to go, Sarah?"

She hoisted her bag up on one shoulder, Bikkit wriggling on her arm. "Yes, please."

"Okie dokie."

Pink glitter everywhere, her eyes included. Sarah held on to the ferret with one hand and her bag with the other. She tried to keep her balance as she passed through the dimensions. Practise did indeed make perfect because this time she landed more or less on her feet. She swayed a few times, but at least did not find herself face down in the grass. She glanced at Bikkit who glanced back as if blaming her owner for the passing spell of dizziness.

Sarah put the ferret down. "Okay, fuzzball, go chase a chicken or whatever it is you do in your fantasies."

Bikkit scooted away, bouncing and dooking with glee. A giggle behind her caused Sarah to turn around and spot Anastasia sitting on her rump in the grass. "This is the right place?"

"Yep, it's exactly where I wanted to go. Thank you so much, Anna, you're a doll." Sarah let her bag drop and sat down next to the goblin. She admired the view as the scent of lilacs in bloom washed over her along with the lazy Underground sunshine and the playful breeze. She kicked her sneakers off and let the grass tickle her feet through the tennis socks, relaxing. Yes, the Underground was a far more pleasant place to be when you were not watching over your shoulder every other second, dreading dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. If not for the fact that she had been bullied into it, this arrangement was turning out splendidly.

"I'm happy to help," Anastasia beamed, no doubt relieved that her abduction antics earlier on had been forgiven.

Sarah picked a straw and rolled it idly between her thumbs before aligning it carefully and blowing through it. A shrill whistle pierced the tranquility of the garden. A few tiny fairy heads popped out between the clusters of lilacs to see what was going on, and she grinned. "I can't believe I still remember how to do that."

The fairies went back to their business of pollination or whatever it was that fairies actually did when not assaulting fingers. It seemed to involve a lot of flitting about and the occasional chirpy noise or squeak. Sarah leaned on her back, flat in the grass, resting her head on her arms. "You know, I really need to talk to someone who knows how this place works. I still have a million questions."

"Do you want me to go and get the King?"

"No, no," Sarah hurriedly declined the goblin's offer. "I meant, talk to someone else than him. No offense, Anna, but His Sparkliness isn't exactly a generous nature when it comes to answering questions. Besides, he's got way too much interest in making me see things the way he wants me to. I need a neutral observer." She sat up. "I need Pish and Tosh, I think."

The goblin nodded gravely and sat back down. Sarah rummaged around her bag until she found the small make-up mirror she had stashed in case she needed it. Like a cellphone, but with interdimensional signal, she mused and looked into it. "Pish and Tosh, I need you."

She unwrapped two peanutbutter sandwiches and a box of lamb flavoured dog biscuits out of her bag. The soft pad of canine paws on grass alerted her to the presence of her spirit guide – animal guardian – interdimensional tour guide – whatever. Handing one sandwich to Anastasia she tore the lid off the cardboard box and put it on the ground. Then she leaned over, her own sandwich in one hand, to hug Pish and Tosh with the other. "Hi guys!"

"Hello, Sarah," Pish said, giving her as regal a look as a two-headed blue German Shepherd dog could muster.

"Biscuits!" Tosh cheered with considerably less dignity, wagging their shared tail.

Anastasia wolfed down her sandwich before either canine head might spot it and try to swipe it. Consequently she went very quiet, trying to lick peanutbutter off the roof of her mouth and making some quite grotesque faces, even for a goblin, in the process.

"I was wondering if I could ask you guys some questions about this place?"

Pish smiled. "Yes, of course, Sarah."

Tosh said nothing. He was busy filling his mouth with biscuits. She wondered whether the dogs shared the pleasure of munching since they shared their body except for the heads.

"Okay. Thanks so much in advance, you two are the best spirit guides ever." She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed before asking, "So this is some kind of pocket dimension or alternate universe?"

"That is a valid explanation. The Underground is not a place in the sense that you are accustomed to. It is real in the same way that a dream is real as long as you are dreaming it," Pish explained. "The difference is that the Underground continues to exist until it runs out of energy."

She nodded. "The Goblin King said something along those lines, too. He said that he – spun – this place based on my imagination and that it feeds off my dreams. If I stop visiting and having anything to do with anyone from here, it will fade away."

"Yes. It will unravel eventually. His Majesty will need to find another source of energy. Another dream to make real," Tosh agreed, maw full of crumbs. "I don't think he's in any hurry to end this one, though."

"I'm not either. I'm just trying to understand."

"You won't," Pish stated. "But don't let that stop you from trying."

"You're another kind of being entirely," Tosh explained. "The way you perceive your existence is not compatible with this realm. You may grasp the theories but you'll never understand it in your bones. That's a good thing too, since magic and riddles are such important parts of this dream."

"That kind of makes sense. So what is the King really? Morpheus?"

"Who's Morpheus?" Anastasia asked, picking crumbs off her dress.

Pish snickered. "The God of Dreams? Maybe."

Tosh tilted his head. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's not very helpful."

"He may have been at some time," Pish amended. "Maybe he will be. It all comes down to the dreams. He can be anything and anyone. Whatever the dreamer wants."

"Of course he will also be himself," Tosh said between bites. "The dreams change but Jareth is, well, Jareth. That part doesn't change. He may change his name and his looks but he'll always be the lord of this place. He'll always be an arrogant and flamboyant character. That part is him."

Sarah took a bite and chewed before speaking. "That makes sense too. If he can pick the dreams he puts to life, he can pick ones that place him in a role he cares to play."

Both dog heads nodded.

"So what's in it for him? Why does he do it? Can't he just make himself some kingdom that is exactly what he wants, and then, well, live happily ever after or whatever he does?"

"He can," Pish agreed. "But he needs the energy to spin and maintain the realm."

Sarah frowned. "So if he can trap people here..."

"They feed the realm their energy," Tosh concluded.

She finished the sandwich and folded her arms around her knees. "I'm suddenly liking him a lot less."

The two canine heads tossed down the remaining few biscuits. Then they flopped their collective body over on the side to laze in the pleasant sunlight. "We never said he was not dangerous," Pish pointed out. "We helped you get away from here, too."

"He permitted us, though," Tosh said. "We could not be here against his wishes. It's his kingdom."

"I need to think," Sarah said. "I knew there was a catch."

"I'm gonna sit here and wait until you want me to take you home," Anastasia promised with solemn loyalty.

* * *

What sort of dress does one wear on a first date with someone who happens to be one's employer? Sarah pictured herself back in college flying apart over which eye shadow to wear and whether to paint her fingernails for a tentative first date as she rummaged through her wardrobe. If in doubt, wear a small, black dress – she had read that somewhere, probably in some fashion magazine at the hairdresser's. That'll knock his socks off for sure. Her rational side countered, you work for this guy. You don't want to reduce him to a drooling mess and then have to deal with sexual tension all over the office tomorrow. Light summer dress, flowery thing, casual? It's a restaurant, not a garden party. Whoever decided that blue jeans and a shirt were not appropriate for just about anything needed to be shot.

She settled for simplicity: A knee-length black skirt, a pretty white blouse, and a small black jacket that radiated efficiency, control, and a hint of feminity. Toss on a pretty necklace and a scarf in bright emerald green to offset her eyes and she was done. Her reflection in the mirror looked efficient, intelligent, and business-like. Meh, it would have to do. She let her hair hang free for the occasion, instead of propping it out of her way in a pony tail.

Will was on time like always, and Sarah opened the door almost before the doorbell had finished ringing. Standing there with his hand still raised Will looked good. Charcoal pants with a matching blazer, a white turtleneck that contrasted elegantly with his dark hair. In his free hand, a single red rose, long stemmed. She could almost hear Amanda wolf whistling in her mind.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

Will laughed. "Yes, well, you know what they say. It's a lady's prerogative to keep a date waiting for at least half an hour. You look lovely and you're on time. This is for you."

She accepted the rose with a smile. "Thank you, Will. It's beautiful. You can come in and pace around the living room for half an hour if you want. I wouldn't want you to feel you're missing out."

He grimaced and offered her his arm. "I'll survive. My ex-wife does that to me every time I come to pick up the kids, without fail. It's one of her little ways of punishing me."

Sarah took the offered arm and let him lead her down the stairs of the apartment building. "Let's label the exes a no-go zone. I really don't want to start comparing notes on the evil that is divorce."

"I'm definitely not going to argue about that," Will conceded with a smile as he opened the car door for her. "And while we're at it, let's try not to talk too much shop, either. I know I keep gravitating towards it but feel free to kick my shin under the table if I get started on deadlines and prospects."

"Will do," Sarah laughed. "You should have let me wear combat boots, though."

"I'd like to get through the evening without ending up in a wheelchair."

* * *

"What's a wheelchair?"

Behind another car, another little gnarled figure whispered back, "It's like a chair, but it has wheels."

"Hush," a third little figure in a ninja costume inserted. "We can't be seen or heard by her."

"Yes, we can."

"Nope."

"Can too. She can always see us."

"But we're not supposed to let her see or hear us."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I did, I said – "

"Shut up," the first goblin cut in. "Is the pigeon ready?"

"All systems go, boss."

The first goblin grinned widely and ripped off a line from its favourite TV show: "Make it so, Number One."

  



	18. Prepare to Get Shouted At

Luigi's turned out to be a quiet little place with a rustic charm and no pretentious airs. Sarah liked the way the candles sat in empty, oval wine bottles covered under layers of dribbled, dried candle wax on the woven grass baskets that cradled the bottles. It was very Italian, and went well with the scenic black and white photos of late 19th century Italian cityscapes that decorated the walls.

She picked an appetizer of fried mushrooms and black olives with a glass of white wine, and relaxed into the welcoming atmosphere. "This is nice. How come no one's ever told me about this place before?"

"They don't do much in terms of advertising," Will replied. "Mostly word-of-mouth."

"It's lovely. How did you find it?"

"My ex-brother-in-law told me about it once. He takes all his conquests here."

She tilted her head to give him a look. "Oh, I see."

"Jason is an idiot but he's got great taste in restaurants."

"I suppose that proves that there is something good in everybody," Sarah nodded. "Although sometimes you need an excavation team of archaeologists with trowels and shovels to find it."

"At least Jason isn't likely to show up on a regular Wednesday evening with some ditzy blonde on his arm. I don't think I could keep a straight face one more time. I know all his lines by heart, I think."

"That bad, huh?"

"Like a bad movie script. Some people never change."

The salt in the pepper pot and vice versa in the salt pot did not bother Sarah much. She had been annoyed when the table decoration caught fire, but then, she was not the one who had to clean up the mess. The goldfish swimming in the decanter of sparkly water was an unexpected touch – even if it had quickly resorted to swimming belly up. What really sucked, though, was that Will was so nice about it all. That, and the fact that he kept returning to the topic of his ex-wife and her family, and then catching himself at it and apologising for entering the no-go zone of conversation.

She listened to small-talk about Will's hobbies. She would not have taken him for an exotic fishes kind of guy but as it turned out, he spent a fair amount of his free time taking care of a batch of cichlids the names of which she would never be able to pronounce or remember. They apparently required a fair bit of care and he was happy to provide detailed information on the best choices of filters and aquatic plants in case Sarah herself felt a sudden urge to introduce a few fish to her household.

"I don't think a fish tank would go well with a ferret," she observed. "I'd probably end up with a very wet and very full ferret."

Will chuckled. "Most fish tanks are covered by the lamps, though. Your ferret would not be able to get in there."

"I'm not sure that the concept of an inaccessible space even exists in the ferret dictionary."

He speared a bit of feta cheese on his fork and nodded. "Clearly what you need is a tank full of piranhas."

"There'd be potential for a lethal alliance there," Sarah agreed. "Between them, there would be nowhere safe on the planet. Honestly, though, fish just don't speak to me. They can be pretty but they don't do anything but swim and eat and die."

Will glanced at the water decanter.

Sarah nodded. "I'm not going to ask either."

He chuckled. "It's just such a – well, such a Sarah Williams thing to happen, really."

She blinked at him. "How's that?"

"I don't know exactly – I've just noticed that things always get a little strange around you. Not in a bad way, more like you have an effect on your surroundings. Little accidents happen, things go missing and then turn up the next day, that sort of thing." He nodded at the decanter. "Even that sort of thing. But you never get upset about it, you just shrug your shoulders and go about your business."

"I'm blissfully oblivious?"

"Hardly. You're just not easily upset."

Sarah nodded. "I suppose. I never really pay much attention. Stress isn't good for you."

"Oh, but you do. It shows in your art, Sarah. There's always these little figures somewhere, working mischief. Sometimes I think you live in this other world full of magical brownies and you just pretend to the rest of us that you can't see them either."

"Wouldn't that be something," Sarah smiled. "I could get them to pose for my paintings. Excuse me a moment, I have to go and visit the little brownie's room."

* * *

"If Sarah catches you spying on her she'll rip you a new one," Toby observed from his position standing just behind the Goblin King's throne. He was leaning in over the shoulder of the throne's occupant to watch the crystal orb that twirled slowly on the fingertip of the lounging king. Inside the sparkly ball, a goblin in a ninja costume was slinking along a wall panel, carrying a dead goldfish in one grubby hand.

Jareth hitched one shoulder. "Technically, it's not her I'm spying on."

"Yeah, well. She's my sister. Change the channel."

The Goblin King looked up at the youth with mild irritation. "I am watching Sarah, or rather, her goblin entourage, to ascertain that nothing severe enough to require medical assistance or police intervention occurs, whether through intent or through typical poorly thought out goblin design."

Toby's brow knit. Telling Jareth what to do was never wise. He might just go and do the exact opposite in order to stress that he was not yours to command. However, the master of manipulation was not immune to manipulation himself. Just a matter of finding the right angle to go at it from.

* * *

Once the door to the ladies' room closed behind her, Sarah looked around intently. Sure enough, balanced on the sink sat Truff, proudly holding the goldfish that had been served with sparkly water earlier. The baseball cap that disappeared into one of the two stalls likely sat on Octavius' head. She put her hands on her hips. "Okay, guys, what's going on here?"

"Nothing," Truff said and hid the dead goldfish behind his back. It was probably beyond first aid's reach anyhow.

Sarah grimaced. "Nothing, tra la la?"

Truff nodded enthusiastically.

"We're just watching," Octavius said from inside the stall.

"Octavius, unless you just turned into Octavia, get out here this instant."

"Okay." The goblin hopped out under the door and came face to face with Sarah's knee. "Don't be upset, Sarah."

"There was a dead fish in my water. I have the right to be upset."

"I didn't know it would die," Truff wailed.

She shushed him quickly. "Guys, you need to stop this stalker routine. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I don't need you to follow me around, all right?"

"We can get rid of him for you?" Octavius suggested with hopeful deviousness.

Sarah grimaced again. "I don't want to get rid of him. In fact, all I want is for you guys to go home."

"No can do."

"Why not?"

"We have to send the pigeon back when you're leaving."

"What pigeon?"

Octavius sighed. "The pigeon. We send it back so the other team knows you're coming." He gave her a somewhat impatient look, as if this was bloody obvious.

"Guys. Look. Whatever you have to do, do it quietly. No more dead fish. No more switching condiments around. No more setting things on fire. If you have to watch, keep out of my way and don't do anything. Am I making myself clear?"

Both goblins nodded solemnly.

"Good," Sarah said, and turned to walk back into the restaurant. "Make sure you remember. Quiet."

As the door closed after her, Truff peered at Octavius. "That's no good."

The baseball-cap sporting goblin grinned. "The others didn't promise nothing."

* * *

Toby watched the crystal in fascinated horror as the second goblin crew argued its next actions. Spilling grape soda on Will's pants was dismissed because neither him nor Sarah were drinking that particular beverage. Anastasia had refused to allow anyone to sneak in under the table to fake a disturbing game of footsie. It might just encourage either party. Elmo did manage to knit the word 'DOOM' into Will's spaghetti but sadly, he failed to notice. When Sarah's wine turned to gravy and vice versa, she simply emptied her glass over her steak and pretended that everything was as it should be. The team was currently arguing whether to break the heels on her shoes so that she would have to decline any offers of moonlight walks.

"She's going to go ballistic," the youth murmured. "I can't believe you're letting them do this to her."

"Sarah has allowed the goblins to grow possessive of her and now she is paying the price."

Toby sighed. "I know, I know. This is my last girlfriend all over again. She's still refusing to talk to me. Is there nothing we can do?"

The King frowned. "Nothing short of going there myself and ordering them back to the Underground." He released the crystal and let it float away from him until it settled on an empty patch of sandstone floor. After a while it popped like a soap bubble, leaving a few fading specks of glitter in its wake.

Toby walked over to settle on the window sill opposite the throne dais. He put his legs up and then glanced back at the King. "Jareth, can I ask you something personal?"

He looked up, one winged brow arched. "And what might that be?"

Those inhuman eyes could flash with an anger that he knew he could not stand up to, and so Toby kept looking out over the Labyrinth. Besides, he did not feel too comfortable with this whole touchy-feely stuff between guys. "What do you really want with my sister?"

"You know what I want."

"Nope. I know how the story goes, obviously, but I kinda figured, well – that was twenty years ago."

The King rose and walked over to stand next to the youth on the window sill. "Why do you want to know?"

Toby studied his hands. "Well, it's like – you're my best friend. I don't want to have to chose sides or get caught in the crossfire if you two decide to have at it. I don't want you to get hurt – again, okay?"

Jareth folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure what I feel," he said with uncharacteristic openness.

"Would you take advice?"

"Maybe. If you stop squirming."

"You're not human, Jareth. You kick ass when it comes to manipulating people but you don't really have the first clue about what it's like to be human. You're damn good at figuring out what people want to hear and how to push their buttons but it backfires sometimes. I mean, people make assumptions about you, and you make the assumptions come true."

The King nodded. Only the tightness of his lips betrayed any emotion at all.

Toby sighed. "Okay, so you've been the bad guy in Sarah's universe for twenty years. She's not going to start trusting you and taking everything you say at face value just because you haven't brought the sky down on her head yet. That sort of thing takes time, but if you just do what you usually do, then you're gonna fuck this up. You need to start thinking human."

"And what are you suggesting, pray tell?"

Oh, that soft voice. Toby knew he was on thin ice. The Goblin King's temper was mercurial. Whether it was reasonable or not, he considered himself royalty and expected the respect that he felt the title demanded. Toby felt that his ancestors didn't boot King George's redcoats out of the country so that he could bow to another monarch a few centuries later, but he usually obliged his friend's quirks. This was just part of who and what Jareth was. "Well, if it was me I'd get my ass over there and call off the goblins before they do something that really pisses Sarah off."

The King tilted his head. "And that would be the human thing to do?"

Toby grinned at him. "Yeah. But prepare to get shouted at. A lot."

"And am I expected to hug you in a manly way now?"

"Er, we can skip that part. I don't mind. You can thump my shoulder if you must."

  



	19. She's Mad All Right

Will tipped generously. Likely he felt obliged to, after having had to ask for a new fork no less than six times as they kept disappearing whenever he turned his head. He helped Sarah into her coat and fortunately did not see the expression on her face when she noticed that someone had scribbled "I SUCK" on the back of his coat in white chalk. She patted his back and managed to wipe it off before anyone else might notice. Surprisingly he kept on smiling and chatting all along. She managed to keep a polite mask plastered on but inside, what she really wanted was to roast goblins over a spit.

"I must have been a terrible person in a past life," Will stated as he looked at the wind shield of his car. It was covered in decorative white patterns of a nature that had direct relation to the digestive functions of pigeons. He clicked the remote control on his key ring to unlock the car, and watched in mild fascination as absolutely nothing happened. "I don't believe it."

"What's wrong?"

He clicked again. "I think the car battery is dead."

"You must have been Hitler."

He scratched his chin. "Or Djengis Khan. This must have been the worst date you've ever been on."

Sarah had to smile. "It's been pretty awful, but none of it has been your fault. You've been remarkably patient, all things considering."

"I'm gonna have to call you a cab, though. This car's going nowhere and if I don't stay with it until I can get a service truck to come over, my insurance won't cover. What an evening."

"I'm sure we can ask someone to help out. It doesn't take more than a couple of minutes to recharge a battery if someone in the restaurant will lend us a couple of jumper cables. Hell, I had to do it all the time with my old car." Sarah began to take her coat off.

"That's not going to be enough," Will said gloomily and pointed down.

Some bastard had slashed his tires.

"You got to be kidding," Sarah muttered. If the Goblin King turned out to be behind this, she would have his balls for Christmas decorations.

"Some day we're going to look back at this and laugh," Will offered with a helpless shrug. "That day sure isn't today, though."

"I'm sorry, Will. I'll just walk home. My place isn't far from here and honestly, I could use the peace and quiet of a late night stroll."

He frowned at her. "Are you sure? It's late at night, you could get mugged."

Only if the mugger wanted to end up in hospital covered in goblin bites, she thought. "I took self defence classes as a teenager and besides, I'm not really mugger material. I'm either too old or not old enough."

"Well, I'm not going to end this disastrous date in an argument. Do you have a cellphone in case you change your mind, though?"

She fished it out of her purse and showed it to him. "I'm a big girl, I can tie my own shoelaces too."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. I'm not going to suggest a goodnight kiss here in the street either. Maybe next time."

Sarah smiled. "Yeah. Goodnight, Will. And thanks for everything, you know, in spite of everything."

The heels of her pumps went clickety-clack on the pavement as she walked down the street, a lonely figure in the night. Then she turned a corner, bringing her out of Will's range of vision, and stared at the nearest dumpster with murder in her green eyes. "Okay, you can come out now."

Several little figures waddled out from their hiding places. One of them was still chewing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought you guys were my friends!"

The goblin terror squad hung their heads.

"Are you mad, Sarah?" Elmo asked tentatively.

"Am I mad? Would I be mad just because somebody nice invites me out? Because for the first time in months I'm going to spend an evening having a friendly conversation with someone who's neither family nor female? Because somebody else took it upon themselves to make the entire evening a goddamn nightmare? Why the hell would I be mad?"

"She's mad all right," a goblin wearing a burglar mask concluded.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm livid. As of right now the lot of you are -grounded-."

Several pairs of beady eyes stared at her in confusion.

She ticked points off on her fingers. "That means no visits to my place, no cake, no game nights, no TV, no following me around, no -nothing-. I don't want to see any of you lot until I get a very sincere apology and an even better explanation for tonight."

Confusion turned to horror.

"That's not fair!" Elmo whined.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry," the burglar mask goblin began chanting until Muffle kicked his shin.

"Get out of here. Scoot. I don't even want to look upon you miserable little monsters right now. Go!" She practically shouted the last word and the street became goblin free within seconds. Only small poofs of glitter remained, sparkling in the erratic light of the lamp posts.

Then she heard a slow clapping, like a one man audience, accompanied by a certain sensation of presence that she associated with one specific person in the entire universe. Sarah turned around and looked at the Goblin King, leaning against a shop window. Regardless of how dashing he looked in his black armour and cape she felt nothing but fury at the sight. In fact, showing up in battle dress hinted that he might be expecting a confrontation as well. "You."

"Me," he agreed.

Her eyes flared. "You've got a lot of nerve to show up right now."

He straightened up and walked towards her. "I came to call the goblins off. However, you've certainly managed to discipline them on your own."

"Am I supposed to say 'thank you'?"

"Somehow I suspect that is not what you feel like telling me at the moment, no."

"Damn straight, Goblin King."

Jareth waved a gloved hand imperiously. "Well, get started on shouting, then."

Sarah gritted her teeth. "How is this not interfering with my life? Aren't you supposed to leave me alone unless I wish you here or something? What is up with these random appearances?"

He inspected his hand with a positively bored expression. "I cannot do anything to you. I can most assuredly affect the rest of the world, which happens to include this street. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that my goblins ruined your date."

"Gah." She threw her hands up and started walking.

The King fell into stride next to her. "Gah?"

"Yes. Gah."

"I see. And what does 'gah' translate to?"

"I can't exactly scream at you when you've just apologised, can I?"

Two-coloured eyes glittered. "Is that so?"

Sarah shot him a look that would have made a lesser man tuck his tail between his legs and run for higher ground. "Don't count your eggs just yet, mister. I have a few other issues I could get started on. Such as how you conveniently forgot to tell me that you intend to trap me Underground to feed your vampire parasite of a kingdom."

Glittering turned to sparkling, and then he laughed – not scornfully or mockingly but with genuine amusement. "Oh, Sarah. Do you think I would have let you go if that was my intention? You've given me no less than four perfect occasions to carry out such a plan."

"No power, remember? You can't hold me against my will."

"I cannot hold you magically against your will," he corrected. "Nothing stops me from closing the portals to your world, though. Come, come, Sarah. I let your spirit dog thing roam free in my Labyrinth to take you there and back when you wanted. If I wanted to trap you, would I have allowed it to warn you in the first place?"

"Gah."

"I did not apologise this time."

Sarah stopped and looked straight at her companion. "Do you really expect me to take everything you say as gospel truth? Especially tonight, when your minions just wrecked the first date I've had in months? They slashed his tires, for fuck's sake. They killed a fish. They set things on fire. And here's you, wanting me to be your, I don't know what, your human battery? When do I get what I want? Maybe I want a normal life without supernatural stalkers or fairytale villains and just the occasional infestation of goblins begging for cupcakes? Don't you have someone else to poof in on? Hell, what does your princess think about you taking off in the middle of the night to lurk around another woman?"

Jareth blinked. Then he laughed. Again. "Oh, Sarah," he managed, between bubbles of irrepressible amusement. "You really need to stop taking things for granted."

"Care to clue me in on the joke?"

"Princess is your ferret," he replied, finally managing to stop his shoulders from shaking. "She doesn't wear a collar with a name tag, in case you've forgotten."

"Gah!" She threw her hands up. "You're impossible!"

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "As a matter of fact, you're the one who is being unreasonable, ungrateful, obnoxious, and insulting. Not to mention whiny."

"Whiny?" Sarah's voice rose several octaves.

"Oh yes. Everything you wanted, I have done. From the first time we met and until today I have done nothing but accommodate your preconceptions. You should be on your knees, thanking me for my generosity and my concern." He raised a hand, halting Sarah's impending explosion. "But then, you're human. I am starting to realise just how differently we view the situation."

"You stole my brother, you drugged me, you put me in mortal danger several times over, you bullied my friends, you scared the crap out of me, and you expect me to thank you? After tonight? You're a – spiritual mosquito!"

For a moment she was uncertain whether the King was going to laugh again or blow a fuse. Judging from the expressions that flashed across his handsome features, neither was he. His jaw clenched, and then unclenched as he shook his head. "Will you let a mosquito offer you a quick way home, at least?"

"It's not far. I can walk."

"Stop being so bloody stubborn. It's infuriating."

"Look who's talking." Sarah felt her temper deflate. She was tired; exhausted, even. Her back was aching and her shoes were not made for hiking expeditions. "Fine. Take me home."

* * *

Someone knocked on the window. Sharon fought off the urge to sink deeper into her bed and pretend that she was asleep and did not hear. He would only get angry and start throwing things at the house or worse, save up his fury for later. With a sigh she slipped out from under the warm covers and went over to open the window a notch.

"Yo, Sharon." Pete was reclining against the window pane, outside.

"Hi."

"Were you asleep or something? You look like a haystack."

"Yeah, it's after midnight."

"Gonna let me in or what?"

She hesitated. "Pete..."

"Oh, come on," he said irritably. "Don't you trust me? I'm not some random stalker. I just want to talk."

Sharon chewed her lip. "Pete, I'm kinda – seeing someone."

He flinched as if she had struck him. "You are? What's his name?"

"It doesn't matter," she tried, but he cut her off. "Who is this guy? Some fat geek from that stupid game of yours? Is that the best you can do, some douchebag gamer? You're such a mess, Sharon, look at you."

She hung her head and then she caught a glimpse of movement in the bushes behind her ex. A small animal, maybe.

"Sharon, Sharon," Pete murmured. "My little mouse. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Let me in and we'll talk about it, okay? You know you can tell me anything. I take care of you. I'll always be there for you."

Sharon's hand raised as of its own acccord and moved towards the window when the honey spell of his words was broken by more rustles in the bush. "Pete, I think there's an animal."

"Forget the fucking bush, Sharon. Let me in. I swear to god I'm gonna break the window." His voice was icy, perfunctory, and she had no doubt that he would act on his threat. She did not want to have to explain another broken window to her dad. No one could be that clumsy, twice.

The bush growled.

Pete looked back over his shoulder. "What the hell? You have someone's dog running around your yard now?"

A small, reddish face peered out at him between the branches, whiskers twitching.

"It's a fox," Sharon said in wonder.

"Go away," Pete told it. "Fuck off or I'm gonna find a stick."

The fox's jaw curled up in a snarl as the small predator crouched low on its hind legs.

"Pete, maybe you should leave it alone – "

"Shut up, Sharon, you don't know shit about animals. Open the damn window, I'm getting pissed off here and you know you hate it when I get angry."

She reached for the window again, and again her attention was diverted, this time by a howl of surprise and pain. The fox's teeth were firmly attached to Pete's shin. It was trashing back and forth as he tried to shake it off and shout abuse it at simultaneously. "Fuck," he shouted, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The lights came on upstairs and Sharon cringed inside. Her dad worked long hours and he did not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. She dove back into bed and pretended to be asleep in case he checked up on her. The front door to the house banged open and heavy steps merged with the sound of Pete's yelling. Then there was a racket as if someone was trying to hit a dog or a fox with a broomstick and the unmistakeable sound of her father chasing her paramour off his property with assorted threats of physical violence.

Finally the heavy steps moved up the staircase again and the house fell silent. She slipped out of bed once again and tip-toed to the window. Outside, the fox sat on the lawn, proudly holding a piece of blue jeans in its teeth. She would swear it winked at her.

  



	20. At Least Toby is Nice

The first question that rose to the surface of Sarah's mind in the morning revolved around what she had drunk last night, and in what quantities. Her back ached. Her head hurt. Her mouth felt like some rodent had crawled into it and died. She groaned as she turned over and attempted to suffocate herself with her pillow. Eventually her body managed to negotiate a deal. She would stop trying to not breathe and it would allow her basic motor control. She swung her legs out over the side of the bed, whimpered at the ache in her lower back, and stuck her feet into her panda slippers. With a snap-crackle-pop of her spine she got on her feet and hobbled to the bathroom.

Nature's most immediate needs attended to, she found time to ponder the second question of the day: Why did she feel mentally drained, exhausted, even? Why did her apartment smell like fresh brewed coffee?

Coffee. Priorities, girl. She followed her nose into the living room and on the kitchen counter she found, oh wonder of wonders, a fresh pot and a mug. Hallelujah! She took a deep sip and felt reality begin to reassert itself.

A chuckle behind her served to remind that some of the obstacles she had sidestepped in her bee-line route to the elixir of life were not piles of laundry or pieces of furniture. She turned around to see the Goblin King sitting cross-legged on the floor. Bikkit was dancing around his knees, chasing his fingers as he trailed them back and forth in front of her teasingly.

"You're gonna get bit," she warned.

"It would not be the first time," he agreed. "Are you always this incoherent in the morning?"

She shrugged and took another deep sip. "What are you doing here?"

He flipped the ferret over and tickled the pale fur of her tummy. This prompted another series of gleeful dance moves when Bikkit escaped. "You asked me to take you home. I did. I did not leave."

The mug was emptied and refilled. Sarah took this second libation to sanity to the sofa, curling her legs up under herself. She suddenly felt conscious about wearing little. Panties and t-shirt was... well, under-dressed. Even with the panda slippers. "Why not?"

"You did not look well. I suspect that you passed out along the way and sleepwalked into your bedroom."

She rubbed her temple with her free hand. "I feel like... Hell, I only had one glass of wine."

"Would that be before or after you singlehandedly banished a small army of mischievous spirits from this world, then?"

"Uh. So, um, you sat here all night?"

The King tugged at one end of his cape; Bikkit was pulling at the other end. "I had good company. Are you feeling all right?"

"I feel like I was run over by a truck and then I woke up with a strange man in my living room. Being molested by a ferret." Her eyes narrowed. "A strange, ferret molested man who found time for a costume change too. Do you carry a portable wardrobe or something?"

Jareth stood, ferret scampering on to one shoulder, and made a small bow. "I do like to dress for the occasion."

She looked him over, since he invited it. This getup was unfamiliar. The black, ankle-length cape of swirling shadows met spread in numerous folds around his lower body and legs, trailing along the floor, hems embroidered with geometric designs in dark purple and silver. There were charcoal streaks in his mane, spilling down over a sleek black tunic. He looked formidable, intimidating, and worthy of a poster print.

The little gears in her mind whirred and creaked. "Greek?"

Thin lips curled into the familiar smirk. "Come, come, Sarah. Or do you need more coffee first?"

"I always need coffee. My name's not Persephone and Hades is supposed to have dark hair. And a beard."

He sat down next to her on the sofa. "I would have been disappointed if you did not catch the reference."

"You're missing the dog."

"But I have a ferret."

"It's not a three-headed ferret, though."

"Fortunately not. It's bad enough that she tries to chew my feet with one mouth. I shall have to leave the multi-headed canines under your jurisdiction."

She had to chuckle. "Why Hades? I mean, you are dressing up, right? You're not really – "

He lifted Bikkit off his shoulder and onto his lap. She curled up with a small pout. "I have played that role a few times. Besides, given your delusions of my impending abduction of yourself, it seemed appropriate."

"Why am I getting this feeling that no matter what sinister entity out of legend or folklore I mention you're going to tell me that you were them at some point?"

He shrugged. "Because I probably was. Myths are humanity's shared dreams. Most dreamers do not make up an entire realm of their own. There are perfectly fine fairytales and divine myths to use. The archetypes work, that's why they're archetypes."

"Okay, okay. That's way too metaphysical for this time of day. Whatever you say." She sat down next to him, curling up so that there was no physical contact. So tired still, and breakfast was definitely not an option. "What the hell happened last night?"

"Ah." The Goblin King steepled his fingers with a regal expression. It was somewhat ruined by the ferret trying to molest his thumb. "My subjects want to remain as they are. They're afraid that history will repeat itself if you get involved with this Bill person. Last time you all but ignored them for a decade."

"Will. His name is Will. I'm a victim of goblin jealousy? Did it occur to you to tell them to back off? I'm not about to marry Will and even if I was, I've grown used to having goblins everywhere. I like having goblins everywhere. Nothing's going to change that. Except maybe that kind of horrid behaviour they treated me to last night." She put her mug down with a clank.

"Interfering with their comings and goings around you means making a choice on your behalf, and you know very well that I am not allowed to do that. No power works both ways, Sarah." He tickled Bikkit's jaw. "As much as I cannot harm you, I cannot help you either, unless you specifically request it from me."

"Man, you ought to come with a manual. The Underground for Dummies." She groaned. "I'm miserable. I'm in pain. I'm exhausted. I'm still in shock about last night. Remind me why I haven't thrown crockery at you yet?"

"I'm good looking, I have perfect fashion sense, and I make good coffee. Also, you are, for lack of a better description, too drained by your little impromptu exorcism. You're fortunate that the goblins adore you. If they had put up a struggle you'd be in a coma."

"That's so reassuring."

"They are extremely fond of you."

"I meant that you didn't intend to interfere even if they had resisted. It's good to know that you won't be getting in the way of me falling into a nice, restful Sleeping Beauty slumber, Jareth. A girl feels so much safer knowing your position on the whole matter. I'm guessing you'd celebrate the occasion by creating a brand new Prince Charming costume for yourself. Give me one good reason besides exhaustion that I shouldn't be throwing plates."

Jareth plopped Bikkit down in Sarah's lap and stood, cloak sweeping at his ankles. "You test my patience. I have done nothing but make certain that you got home rather than passing out in the street. I understand that you are tired and frustrated but do place blame where blame is due."

"You're leaving, then?"

"I do have other things to look after," he replied curtly.

Sarah sighed, mostly from tiredness. "I'll drop in on you on your side one of those days."

He nodded, and then became a small wisp of glitter that tinkled and sparkled as it floated to rest on the floor before fading away.

* * *

Tap tap. There was that strange little noise again. Amanda looked around in an attempt to identify the source but remained puzzled until her gaze fell on the kitchen window. There, behind the lacy curtain, sat a russet, fluffy-tailed squirrel on the window sill, tapping the glass with one tiny paw. It looked bedraggled.

She stared at the little rodent. It stared back, and then tapped the glass again.

"I guess you want something, huh." She opened the window just a bit.

The squirrel did not startle. It just tilted its head on the side and peered at her with its dark needlepoint eyes. Its coat was matted.

"What do you want? Breadcrumbs? Geez, what do squirrels eat?" The thought that the animal might be rabid or otherwise sick crossed her mind but she dismissed it. The little creature looked harmless, fluffy tail draped over its back. Amanda paused and then reached into a kitchen cabinet, procuring a handful of cashews from a jar. She opened the window carefully as not to startle the rodent, and put the nuts in a neat line on the sill. Then she took a step backwards. "Come and get it, boy."

The squirrel hopped closer and sniffed the nuts. Then, with dainty little movements, it picked one up and began to stuff its face.

"You're really not scared of people, are you?" Amanda watched as nut after nut disappeared. "What a strange little critter you are. Is there even such a thing as a circus squirrel?" She reached out to touch a fingertip to the fluffy tail. The squirrel hopped out of reach. Once she withdrew her hand it hopped back and resumed munching.

She smiled. "I dated a guy once who called you guys treetop rabbits. Get yourself cleaned up a bit and you can move into my yard, okay?"

That's not a bad idea, Muffle the goblin thought.

* * *

Sharon waited until the house was empty before filling a saucer with milk. Then she tiptoed out into the backyard and looked for an out of sight corner to place it. She did not want her father to find out that she was feeding a fox. He would blow up at her, and shout about the damage feral animals did and the diseases they carried. For all she knew he might take the shotgun out back and deal with the fox once and for all. That was definitely not something she wanted to happen. The animal, feral though it might be, had helped her out and it was not harming anyone who mattered. She put the saucer under a thorn bush where it would not catch the eye unless you knew it was there. "I hope you like milk, fella," she whispered into the bush.

Something rustled and then a black nose popped out of the hedge. A warm brown eye watched her with open curiosity. The fox' other eye was milky white. "Aw," Sharon whispered to it. "What happened to you? Another fox? Did you get in a fight?"

The fox tilted its head as if to remind her that it could not talk. Then it sat down on its rump, and curled the white-tipped tail around its paws.

Sharon giggled. "You're such a dainty little fellow. My knight in shining fur. Thank you for last night."

The fox regarded her solemnly.

"Yeah, I know. He's an asshole. A prick. A bastard. Anything bad you can think of, well, Pete is it." She sighed. "I don't know what I saw in him. He was just nice to me, you know? He used to say all these sweet things and really care about me. I don't know what went wrong. I did something and now he treats me like crap but at the same time he keeps saying that he loves me and that I'm his girl."

The fox curled its upper lip in a grimace that resembled a dismissive little snarl.

"At least Toby is nice," she confided in the animal, realising for the first time why people loved dogs. You could tell them anything. "He's really sweet. Kinda geeky but he doesn't tell me that I'm clumsy or stupid."

It nodded approvingly.

Sharon hugged herself. "I'm going crazy, aren't I? I'm sitting here, talking to a wild animal, and I'm thinking you actually understand everything I say. But it's okay. At least I have Toby until he finds out about Pete or Pete finds out about him, and now I have you too. Don't worry, I won't tell Dad about you." She closed her eyes.

A small paw, sharp claws under fur, patted her arm. Sharon's eyes snapped open and she found herself face to face with the fox. It was alert and cautious but it did not seem to actually be afraid. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then her pent up emotions burst out of control and she hugged it close. She buried her face in the luxurious fur and let go of the tears.

  



	21. Not Very Much Fun At All

The morning after a date with one's boss could be embarrassing, more so if the date had gone well. Given the disaster that Sarah and Will's date had turned into, she groaned when she ran into him and Amanda both in the printer room.

"That great last night?" Amanda chuckled.

Will groaned too. "Worst date ever. Not Sarah's fault, though."

Sarah agreed. "Everything that could go wrong went wrong. Well, I walked home and I only got hit up by someone I know. Wasn't a mugger at least."

"Oh good," Will said. "I felt awful about letting you walk like that. Insurance, you know." He glanced at Amanda. "You wouldn't believe it. Somebody slashed my tires. There was a dead goldfish in the water decanter. And that wasn't half of it."

"I was fine," Sarah reassured him. "Ended up talking Greek mythology over coffee."

Her editor smiled his relief and wandered off with his prints. In his wake, Amanda looked at her closely. "Greek mythology? You sure it wasn't Irish?"

Sarah threw up her hands. "Jay is a folklore buff."

"And you ran into him in the street just like that? Honey, he's a stalker. Seriously, that's too creepy to be coincidence. He's a jelly donut."

"He's a what?"

"A jelly donut. Looks great on the outside, shit on the inside." Amanda put her hands on her hips. "I changed my mind about him, all right? He's bad news. Stalkers are bad news."

"I thought that quote was about a president," Sarah said, confused.

Amanda waved her hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. You need to tell this guy off, Sarah. Following you around in town isn't sexy. Put down some limits and if he doesn't shape up real fast, dump him on his ass so hard he'll be picking up his teeth."

"Can we talk about this some other time? I mean, serious talk."

Her friend gave her a thorough look up and down before nodding. "Okay. My place after work. Pizza and beer. And then we figure out how to stuff Will's good heart into Gareth's sexy body."

* * *

Toby liked playing chess with the Goblin King for many reasons. He liked the royal chambers, and this dark study had a comfortable man cave air to it that he rather enjoyed. Everything was mahogany, dark fabrics, and stained glass table lamps, as if its maker had lifted it straight out of some Victorian setting. He probably had.

Jareth had taught him the game to begin with. He had pretended to make stupid mistakes often enough for the boy to get confident, and eventually, good at the game. For a while they had played as equals. Toby had figured out the winning strategy of distraction in time. Jareth's attention span tended towards the flighty. The youth wasn't above switching a few pieces around on the board while the King wandered around the room, waiting for Toby to announce that he'd made his next move.

There's a few parallels to life in that, Toby thought. Jareth fancied himself a master of the seduction game but he didn't have the attention span to keep his winnings. A teenage girl could pull the carpet out under him.

"You're being too quiet for someone who has just found true love," the older man observed, moving his knight towards the centre of the game board. "Your turn."

Toby thought, then moved his rook. "I'm just wondering why you always play as black."

"That ought to be obvious." Jareth moved a pawn. "I tend to get cast as the villain."

"You like being the villain. And your pawn is sneaking up on my queen."

"You don't say."

Toby shrugged. "You don't seriously expect me to let you knock off my queen with a pawn?"

The Goblin King's uneven gaze locked on his own.

"If you hadn't moved your knight," Toby began, then stopped. The other man's gaze bore into him, intent and blue. "You're doing it again."

"Am I?" Jareth smiled with contrived innocence.

"Yes. It's another of your parables. Your lessons. You know I hate it when you do that. Just tell it to me straight."

The Goblin King shook his head. "I believe that we are about to hear it all from a more, shall we say, objective source."

As if on cue – it probably was on cue – a goblin in the hall outside blew a horn loudly. Then it banged the door open and announced the arrival of Sir Didymus, Knight of the Realm, Master of Ambrosius, Lord of the Bridge, Friend of the Stone Brother, the Bard of – "

"Yes, yes. Get on with it already," Jareth said irritably and waved the fox knight into the study. "And shut the door from the outside, Fiddibanks."

The goblin embodiment of chivalry was livid. He held a piece of blue denim fabric in one paw and shook it several times at his king as if he expected it to start talking on its own. "The nerve! The impudence of yon lout! Such lily-livered cretinosity!"

Toby wondered if that was actually a word.

"Come now, Sir Didymus," Jareth said gently. "Tell the story from the beginning, please. Do include the bit where you stole the leg of someone's blue jeans."

The fox took a deep breath to steady itself. "'Twas a noble quest that I set out upon, my liege. Ne'er hath I laid mine eyes on the maiden true and fair – "

He kept talking like that for a while. Toby did not understand all of it. The diminutive knight's archaic speech patterns seemed to get all the more dated the angrier he was. He was livid, nigh unintelligible, but the King listened with perfect patience. The chivalrous little goblin narrated with great eloquence, describing his pretense to be a feral animal – the indignity! – to keep watch over Sharon. Before Toby could ask what prompted that decision to begin with, Didymus launched into the tale of his battle with the lout at the window. It was two parts interpretative dance and one part blank verse. Toby found himself actually stepping backwards as to not end up part of a physical demonstration of how to de-seat a pair of jeans.

Jareth listened carefully and then thanked Sir Didymus for his services, causing the little knight to beam with pride. "Go and rest, my knight. You have proven your honour. Then resume your vigil," he said and kept the solemn expression until the door shut behind the infuriated goblin.

Then he turned and fixed his gaze on Toby. "How much of that did you understand?"

Toby fidgeted in his chair and knocked a chess piece over without noticing. "What the hell is going on, Jareth? Why is Sir Dee spying on Sharon? Who's window guy?"

The Goblin King fixed his uneven gaze on the youth again. For a while he kept silent. The shadows of the corners of the room pooled around his feet and crept up his clothing, rendering them a leaden shade of ominous sable. With his innate flair for the dramatic he finally announced, "It's time to find a book, Toby. A small, red book. Your sister has it. Go get it."

He got up as well. "Tell me what's going on. This isn't funny."

"No," Jareth said shortly. "I imagine it's not very much fun at all." Then only dark specks of glitter remained where he had stood.

* * *

Sarah hid in the rest room. She knew Will wanted to talk to her about last night, but without Amanda making long ears and offering helpful suggestions. She just couldn't face it. She felt drained. What had she done exactly to be this tired? Banished a small army of mischievous spirits, was that what Goblin King had said?

The Labyrinth fed on her creative energies. Jareth had all but said as much outright. She had called it a parasite. A mosquito universe. How much energy had she lost on the mass goblin exorcism? Would she regenerate what she had lost? For a moment she entertained a vision of dying from sheer exhaustion. She would lie on the bed, pale and gaunt, and he would finally understand –

Well, Sarah, she told herself. That got sappy fast. And stupid. And let's not forget melodramatic and pointless and idiotic. She leaned on the bathroom sink and stared into her own eyes in the mirror.

The fluorescent lighting was not doing her any favours. Her green eyes looked sort of yellowish, and not in a good way. Her skin looked grey with blue highlights. Her hair sported an unattractive shade of dull brown. Rest rooms had crappy lighting. That was a universal truth. Practically a law of physics.

She turned and tried to look at herself in profile. It wasn't that bad, really. Sure, she was not twenty. On the wrong side of thirty-five, even. Closing in on the big forty. She never liked to wear much make-up but with a touch of concealer and a bit of creatively applied shadow and highlight she would be all right. She had never been pretty. As a kid she had been chubby. As a teenager, boys had called her cute, but never beautiful. Unusual. Spirited. Her eyes were the best part of her face, she told herself. She'd grown into a good figure and a habit of forgetting meals had kept her slender.

It wouldn't last forever. There were small lines at the corners of her eyes, subtle reminders that time marched on. Though her breasts had never been put to the use Nature intended, they were not as perky as when she was twenty. Her ass wasn't quite as firm. The lines at the edge of her mouth had grown deeper, and while she liked to think it was due to smiling a lot, time marched on.

Everybody grows old.

Except that some don't. Some stay the same age as long as they want to. Some reshape their reality to suit their whims. Some are immortal, or at least thousands of years old.

Better keep it to the ballroom dreams, Sarah Williams told herself. At least you don't need to worry about wrinkles in those. Only have to worry about the fact that the object of your sexual fantasies is seeing and hearing your every thought on the matter. Not embarrassing at all, nope. Then she straightened her back and looked defiantly at her reflection in the unforgiving mirror. Sure, she was not fifteen. Or twenty. Or even twenty-five. She didn't even know if the sexual tension between herself and the Goblin King was real.

It could be all in her imagination, like it had been back then. It could just be his modus operandi, the way he secured his hold on his power source. Seduction and then, entrapment. What happened when he finally tired of a fantasy? What happened to the dreamer?

"I bet he thinks I ought to be grateful that he notices me at all," she murmured.

  



	22. Nothin' But Trouble

"I need some advice, mom." Toby sat on the chair in the kitchen, watching Karen slicing apples. She was going to make one of her famous pies, no doubt. Coming to think of it, she was always trying to feed him. People show love in funny ways sometimes, he mused.

"Be yourself and don't make promises you can't keep," Karen said and threw an apple core away before reaching for the next apple. "Also, bring flowers. Girls like to feel appreciated."

"That's... not what I need to talk about."

His mother paused in slicing to give him a look. "Go on." Occasionally air-headed though she might be, she was not stupid, he thought. Right now he really needed some level-headed advice from somebody whose feet were firmly planted on solid American ground.

"It's about Sharon. One of my friends told me something." He hoped she would not ask which friend. He would be hard pressed to provide satisfactory details on Sir Didymus and his spying in Sharon's backyard.

"Don't listen to that kind of talk," Karen said. "People say awful things about other people sometimes. Make up your own mind."

Not stupid at all, he thought. Still. "That's – it's about a guy. I don't know his name. This guy apparently thinks she's his girlfriend. Like, he thinks he owns her."

Karen put the knife down on the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. "Well, that will not do, Toby. I hope she's showing him the door. Nobody needs that in their life."

"Well, my buddy kind of overheard them talking. This guy was threatening Sharon. Saying she wouldn't like it if he got mad. Called her a bitch. He was threatening her, mom. So my friend punched him." He wanted to say, my friend bit him on the ass and ripped his jeans to shreds, but he suspected it might detract from the topic at hand.

"Good," Karen said. "I'll bake your friend a pie. Is it Jim?"

Toby blinked. Oh right. The guy in his programming class. "No, it's not someone you know, mom. So what do I do?"

"You give him the pie," she said firmly.

"I meant, what do I say to Sharon? Do I tell her I know about it, or should I just keep quiet?" He floundered. "Won't she get mad if she finds out I know?"

Karen sighed. "I don't know, Toby. There's no easy answer for this kind of thing. Your friend did the right thing. If it happens again, Sharon needs to talk to her parents about it. And she needs to stay away from that person. It doesn't matter how many promises they make, that kind of man always ends up causing hurt."

"So how do I help her?"

She fixed her son with her eyes. "You talk to her, Toby. You make sure she knows that you're not like that, and that you'll be there for her. Don't just tell her. Show her."

"You mean – "

"No, I don't mean that you should go and start a fight, you dear, dear blockhead." Karen chuckled. "Be there. Hug her. Listen. And don't dick this up."

As he watched his mother return to slicing apples he didn't know what bothered him more at the moment: That she had not told him to go beat the snot out of this Pete specimen, or that she used swears like a kindergartener.

* * *

A long and arduous day was finally drawing near its end, or at least approaching dinner time. Sarah flopped down on a chair in Amanda's small kitchenette. Her friend's apartment was, if possible, even smaller than her own, and oh so elegant. Amanda was just that kind of person. She saw something in a magazine that she liked and redecorated her entire digs every third week. Too much energy, she would say. She got bored looking at the same wall colour for months.

"What toppings do you want?" Amanda held her phone in one hand and her phone book in the other.

"Uh. Pepperoni. And garlic. Lots of garlic." If I dream the ballroom dream tonight, let's see how the Goblin King feels about that, she added viciously in her mind.

"One no goodnight kiss, gotcha." Amanda dialed, then glanced her. "Sure you don't want anchovies too?"

"No anchovies." She did not listen as her friend ordered. Her mind wandered instead. Why was her place never this tidy? Because it's full of goblins and you have a ferret. Well, it used to be full of goblins. Would the goblins ever come back?

Amanda seated herself on the other side of the small table and held out an ice beer. "Remember when these were the big thing?"

"Ice beer?"

"Yeah. Sometime around '88 or so. Suddenly all my dates would try to impress me with ice beer."

"I think it's been around a lot longer than that," Sarah said but reached for the bottle anyway.

"So have silly boys. And silly men."

"And that's my cue, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it kinda is," Amanda agreed. "Look, I love gossip as much as the next girl but this isn't about a date that got messed up, is it?"

Sarah shook her head and sipped her beer. The chill of it took most of the taste away. That was not a bad thing, she didn't really like beer all that much. "I like Will. But you know. He's nice. He's fun. I'm not waking up hot and bothered after dreaming about him. I don't dream about him at all."

Her friend nodded. "No, you're screwing Gareth in your dreams and we're not talking vanilla virgin stuff either. That's some heavy competition Will's got. That guy is like, sex in boots. And creepy as all hell. You know what bothers me most about it? The fact that you were painting this guy for like, forever, and you never said a word about him until this week. Or last week, whatever."

Sarah smiled weakly. "I thought he was history. I guess I was wrong about that."

"Very."

"I'm not in love with him. If anything, I'm in lust with him."

"Don't blame you except the part where he's a creepy stalker."

She sipped her beer. "If my memory serves you're the one who told me to get on the case."

"That's before I knew he's stalking you, Sarah. Seriously, the guy turns up and tries to get me to spill on you? And then he just happens to be around to walk you home when your date turns sour?" Amanda looked unimpressed.

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"No, it isn't." Amanda put her bottle down on the counter with a little clank of firm resolve. "He may think the world of himself. He's sexy and he knows it. Man, he knows it. Guys like that, hell, I love them. I let them do their thing and take me for a ride and then we split, nobody gets hurt. You want to tap that, go on, knock yourself out. But don't get involved for real with a guy like that."

"That's just it," Sarah said. "I don't know enough about him to even tell what he's really like. I know his act but I don't know him."

"No. Bad Sarah. No biscuit."

She laughed in spite of herself. "The irony. If this was a chick flick it'd just be romantic. The guy just has to stick to his guns and eventually the girl has to realize that the was Mister Right all along."

Amanda shrugged. "I read that sort of romantic crap for a living, Sarah. Let me tell you this. Sneaking into your bedroom to watch you sleep isn't sexy. Paedophilia isn't sexy. Corpses aren't sexy. Stephanie Meyer is still getting filthy rich from writing exactly that kind of tripe. People want their escapism fix and that's fine. But if you go falling for this guy because of his bad boy act then you're setting yourself up for heartbreak. Tell me that you at least yelled at him for spying on your date."

"You have no idea."

"Good. House train him first." She cocked her head, then stood. "And speaking of house pets, you have got to see this." She walked to the window and undid the latch. A small, furry face poked its nose in, then stared at Sarah in horror and bolted.

"Huh," Amanda said. "I guess he's shy. I think he's someone's pet that ran away. He's quite tame. He taps on the window for cashews. Or she. How do you tell boy squirrels from girl squirrels anyway?" She shrugged and returned to the table.

"It looked like a boy to me," Sarah said.

Apparently not all the goblins were gone.

* * *

Sarah was not home that evening. Toby did not know where she was and didn't think it was any of his business, either. He just hoped she'd stay away long enough that he would not have to explain why he was going through her bookcases first and the boxes under her bed second. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the little red book finally turned up in one of them. Its cover had faded with time, rendering it a dusty shade of orangey pink. The gold print on the cover was hard to read. He flipped through a few pages. The book's insides were fine.

He had read it. Didn't like it. It was the sort of sugary fairytale stuff that a teenage girl would love. And of course he had had a hard time picturing the Goblin King as, well, the Goblin King. Had a hard time picturing Jareth pining away, secretly in love with a child. Or anyone else, for that matter. Huh. He made a mental note to ask Sarah sometime how she obtained the book in the first place.

"Ahem. AHEM. I said, ahem."

Toby looked at his sister's mirror. If he didn't know it doubled as a trans-dimensional communication device he'd have thought it extravagant. The familiar face of a dwarf glowered at him from the other side, clear blue eyes shaded under heavy white brows.

"Hello, Hoggle. What's up?"

"Nothin' good. Somebody's pokin' where he shouldn't be pokin' if you know what I'm sayin'" The dwarf looked pointedly at the novelette in his hands.

"I'm just borrowing it," he said defensively.

"Well, you shouldn't be."

"Wait, why do you care?" Hoggle was not the kind of dwarf that called every other week just to stay in touch. He was the sort of dwarf who gruffly pretended to be offended that you disturbed him when you got in touch.

"'Cause you're goin' to get somebody in trouble with that. I knows what I knows. That thing ain't nothin' but trouble. You put that thing back right now."

He tilted his head. "It's just a book, Hoggle. A fairytale. It's not even a good fairytale."

"You tell your sister that," the dwarf snorted. "Why'd you listen to me? Ain't like no one else ever does." The mirror rippled like someone had thrown a pebble into a pond. When the ripples settled, the image of the dwarf was gone, and only his own reflection looked back at him.

"Right, then," Toby sighed and stuffed the booklet into his pocket.

* * *

The night was not young when Sarah let herself into her apartment. She was not drunk but she was not entirely sober, either. It was liberating. Ragging on men in general with Amanda had been liberating. Sometimes her introvert tendencies made her forget that having pizza and a few beers with another woman was a necessary part of staying sane.

She tossed her coat over the back of her work chair and read the note that Toby had left on the lid of the closed laptop. Huh. What did he want with that old thing? She was impressed that he had managed to find it. Probably under the bed, somewhere, along with dozens of other books she had no intention of reading again but couldn't bear to part with. One did not part with books. Might as well ask her to part with her feet, she mused.

Something in her apartment wasn't as it was supposed to be. It took her a while to put a finger on it. There were no goblins. Right, she knew that. Everything was exactly as she had left it. Nobody had raided the fridge or stolen the peanut butter. Nobody had been browsing Xena fan fiction on her computer and forgotten to turn it off. Nobody had eaten the single rose that Will had given her. It was starting to wilt.

She looked in the cage and under the sofa. Even Bikkit was gone. "I guess the place isn't all that interesting compared to the Underground when I'm not here," she muttered. "Maybe I should get chickens."

Sarah showered and brushed her teeth extra carefully to get rid of the after-taste of abundant garlic. Then she slipped into an oversized t-shirt with a Garfield print and curled up in bed. Feeling slightly lonely and abandoned she turned on the radio. The news anchor talked about how property prices continued to fall on both sides of the Atlantic in Europe and America, causing hardships to home owners and problems for the financial institutions. She turned it back off.

Being alone was overrated.

She fell asleep eventually, in spite of her self pity that gave way to frustration when she found herself in the ballroom once more. The dancers whirled and spun and turned themselves into living obstacles. They grinned and leered at her, and brushed their bodies against hers in suggestive ways. She was getting real tired of their crap. Maybe she should punch a few in their painted faces, or hit them with the chair? It would be interesting to see how they would react.

If they reacted at all. What was the purpose of the ballroom dream anyhow? Sarah watched a mask with an elongated nose that resembled another body part with mild fascination. The girl ate the peach and forgot everything. The girl was trapped in a dream in a bubble, frozen in time, chasing a mysterious suitor through the crowd. That's what he had been trying to do, she realized. Trap her with him forever. And the worst part of it was, she would have spent an eternity in a prison of her own design, loving every minute, forever unaware of her fate.

Sarah reached out and took hold of the offending nose. She turned her wrist, twisting it in a way that made several male dancers grimace and back away lest she turn on them next. "I was fourteen," she told the unfortunate man still trying to get the mask off. It seemed to be stuck to his face. Maybe he had no other face. "And now I'm thirty-five and you know what? I'm mad as hell about it."

  



	23. You're a Can of Tuna

The gentleman thing to do was waiting for Sharon to feel comfortable enough with him to divulge her street address. Her own address, not Nicole's. He could try to talk to Sharon on the phone or on online, convince her to tell him where she lived. He could even try to weasel it out of Nicole though he had a feeling that Sharon's friend wouldn't be spilling the beans.

Toby was not feeling like a gentleman. He stalked into the throne room, leaving goblins and chickens scattering in his wake, and waved the red book. “I've got it. Do your thing.”

Jareth lounged on his throne, one leg resting on its arm rest, as he liked to do when bored or speculative. Bikkit was fast asleep curled up on his abdomen, tail covering her eyes. He arched a winged eyebrow at the youth. “Well done. Was it hard to find?”

“No,” Toby said shortly. He still felt a bit bad about going through his sister's things. At least he'd left a note.

The Goblin King righted himself on his throne, steadying the ferret with one hand. “I assume you've figured out what to do?”

“I'm not an idiot,” Toby groused. “Give her the book. Get her to say the words. Get her to safety here.”

“Not... Exactly.”

He blinked. “Then what?”

His self proclaimed mentor waved his free hand airily. “She'll figure it out.”

The world swirled and crashed down around his ears. Toby hated that part. He was not in the mood for cryptic answers, either. Landing on his feet and figuring out where he was took precedence over swearing, though. He managed to not fall as reality reasserted itself and looked around. It wasn't what he had expected.

He was not actually sure what he had expected. He had met Sharon in a fantasy universe. On some level, he supposed, he had expected her to live in the fantasy city of Darnassus, home of the night elves. A Cape Cod style house in the 'burbs was not even in the top ten of his expectations.

The yard was slightly overgrown. The fence could use a paint job. The pick-up truck in the driveway could do with a wash. The place was far from in shambles but there was an air of – indifference? The place felt... tired. Yes, that was it. Tired, as if it was all just too much effort but you still do what you can because that's what you do.

“My prince!”

Toby looked down. Sir Didymus crouched in a bright pink bougainvillea bush. It clashed with his natural russet colours. The fox goblin looked startled but attempted to bow. That took effort, given that he was sitting down, hiding in the foliage.

“Quiet,” Toby murmured and knelt next to him. He hoped he was out of sight from the street. Or from the house, for that matter. “Do you know which room is hers?"

“'Tis that one.” Sir Didymus extended a paw towards a window on the ground level. White curtains obscured the inside from view. “Pray tell, did His Majesty send you?”

Toby nodded.

“Reckoned as much,” the fox said with a knowing air. “Prithee, willt thou be addressing thy heart's desire? Shall I fetch an instrument?”

“No.” The image of Sir Didymus trying to get him to serenade Sharon danced through Toby mind and sent shivers of horror down his spine. Some things looked a lot better in books. “No instruments. I just need to talk to her.”

"A ghetto blaster?"

"No music, Sir Didymus. We don't want to alert the entire neighbourhood to my sitting around in her yard like some kind of creep."

The goblin knight looked disappointed.

“Is she home alone, do you know?”

Didymus scoffed. “Her father, the knave, works nights and sleeps his day away. An' thou be quiet, the beast will not stir.”

“Gotcha.” Toby stood and walked to the window, trying to position himself so that he was still out of sight from the road. Then he knocked softly on the window pane.

Something or someone stirred inside but the window stayed closed. He knocked again.

The window opened. Sharon's expression was one of guilt and weariness as she looked out. Then she spotted him and her eyes widened in surprise. “Toby!”

“Look, I know this is really weird,” he said. “But I need to talk to you.”

She frowned. “Did Nicole tell you --”

“No. I didn't talk to her.” He shook his head.

She looked at him dubiously.

Toby sighed. “You wouldn't believe me. At least not right away. You just have to trust me, this is really important. I have something for you.” He held up the faded red book.

Sharon blinked. “What's that?”

“It's a book. Well, it's a play. It's not even a good play, kind of sappy to be honest, but you got to read it. It's really important. It's about this girl, you see, she makes a wish and – ” He knew he was babbling but he could not stop himself. “And the Goblin King takes her away,” he finished lamely.

What's the sound of one hand clapping? Toby did not know. He immediately recognised the sound of a fox face palming, though. He looked down.

“What my companion tries to declare, my fair lady, is that 'tis a matter of utmost importance. Thou art to read this small tale, thy fate depends upon it.” Sir Didymus stood upright, leaning on his sword. He managed a solemn air in spite of his diminutive size.

“Er. Yes. That.” Toby looked back to Sharon.

“Toby.”

“Yes?”

“The fox is wearing clothes.”

“I carry a blade also, fair maiden. Should it prove necessary, I should not hesitate to lay down my life for thee. My sense of smell is keen, and my king commands it.”

“It's talking, Toby.”

He managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Look. I know this is crazy. You have to read this book. It's a bad book. It's a stupid book. But most of it is true.”

Sharon looked anything but convinced. He suspected that the only reason she was not slamming the window shut and calling for her father was the shock of a talking, dressed, and armed animal.

“Is this... Is this some kind of trick?” She looked vulnerable. Too vulnerable, Toby thought. She looked like a puppy that people kicked just because they could.

“No trick.” He laid the book on the window sill. “Please. Just read it. You'll know what to do.” Jareth had better be right about that.

A noise from the inside made Sharon startle and look over her shoulder. When she looked back at him there was fear in her eyes. “I'll read it. Promise. But you have to go, Toby. You can't be here. You can't be here.”

“Our beautiful maiden speaks the truth, my prince.” Sir Didymus looked up at him, feathery hat askew. “Yon dragon awakens. Make haste, I shall guard her with my life.”

“Right. Going. Read it.” The fox goblin was pushing at his leg.

As he walked out into the driveway and started down the street he looked over his shoulder. Sharon was still at the window, looking down. He did not have the first clue what Sir Didymus would say to Sharon, to convince her to believe that he was real. Maybe the obscuration spell would reassert itself and he'd revert to appearing like a half blind fox to her. Toby didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that the little goblin would stop at nothing to keep his damsel in distress from coming to harm. Sir Didymus seemed a little silly at times. Over the top, even. When it came to matters of keeping his word and protecting the weak, though, the fox never hesitated and never gave up.

Now where the heck was he actually at?

* * *

Sarah did not pack a bag or put on a wind breaker this time. She did not feel the time was right for dog biscuits and spirit guides, either. She stood in front of her bedroom mirror in jeans and a shirt, without as much as a hand basket. “All right. I'm ready for that talk now. Pick me up, please?”

For a moment she thought she heard a faint laughter from somewhere behind the mirror. Then reality warped and she had to shake her head to focus her vision and not fall over.

“As always, your wish is my command.” The Goblin King lounged on the small bench in the lilac garden that she liked so much. It was not likely to be a coincidence. She doubted that anything about his appearance or choice of location ever was.

She looked him up and down. “I'm guessing you expect me to yell at you?”

He actually blinked. “It would not be out of character for you, but I was not expecting it. What makes you think that?”

She gestured at his dark attire. “You're wearing battle armour.”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “I was busy.”

Sarah shrugged. “Sucks to be you. It's about time we have this talk.”

Jareth smirked. “There are lots of talks we ought to have. Where would you like to start?”

He moved to one end of the bench and she took the offered seat next to him, close but not touching.

“I had the dream again,” Sarah said. “You knew that because you can't not know.”

“Quite. I admired your handiwork on that poor fellow's nose.”

“That was not a nose and you know it. Anyway. I was mad. I'm still kind of mad. But we can't go on like this. I don't really like you. You're an ass. An arrogant, manipulative ass. But I'm kind of stuck with you, aren't I?”

He brushed a strand of blonde hair out of his face with a gloved hand. “You still see a hostage situation. Very well. Yes, yes, you're stuck with me.”

Sarah nodded. “And you are, well. You're my own creation. I made you. You're a figment of my imagination. You're a can of tuna.”

The King looked at her with obvious surprise. “I'm a what now?”

“A can of tuna,” Sarah said confidently. “I made a can and I wrote 'tuna' on the label. Figuratively speaking. Then you just had to decide to get in there and now you're a can of tuna. Doesn't matter if you were a catfish or something else before, now you're a tuna and you can't not be tuna.”

He stood abruptly, high collared leather cloak rustling. “I am not fond of being told what I can and cannot do.”

“I don't care,” Sarah said with a smile. “I'm stuck with you but you're also stuck with me. Get used to it.”

Jareth raised a gloved hand and for a moment she thought he was going to yell or send her away. Then he shook his head and his hand fell back down. “Go on.”

Sarah sat on the bench cross-legged. She was starting to enjoy this. “I think I got the best part of this bargain. I get an entire fantasy world that'll model for anything I want to paint. I got friends. Hell, I even got eye candy. I used to think you were frightening. I thought you had all kinds of power to mess me up. Turning time around, rearranging the night sky, drop me in a hole in the ground to be forgotten by everyone. I thought that if you ever remembered me, you'd make my life living hell.”

He smirked. “I was frightening.”

“Well, now you're not. You're whatever you are, sure. You're stuck being a dated teenage fantasy, and you can't break character lest you risk your magic battery.”

“I happen to like this fantasy,” he said crisply.

“I'm rather proud of it,” she agreed. “If the Labyrinth has a secret, that's it right there. My power is as great as yours. It doesn't mean we're equally powerful. It means that your power is literally my power. You can give ideas form and substance but you don't have any of your own. I'm an artist. I paint a fantasy on a canvas every day. You wouldn't be able to pick up the paint brush. You can only shape your world after my vision. Without someone to leech from you're helpless.”

For a while the Goblin King remained quiet. Then he laughed, startling her. “Took you long enough. Then again, I've told you in so many words, several times. Did you come to gloat?”

Sarah shook her head. “No. I came because I said I would, and because I wanted to clear the air between us. You're not the boss of me. You need me. And I need you.”

Jareth crossed his arms across his chest, armour clanking. He looked formidable in the hazy light, sable armour and leather cloak. She almost felt bad for taking him down a few notches. Almost. “Stop sulking. There are things I need to tell you.”

He tossed his head slightly. “I am not sulking.”

“Yes. You are. So let's start at the top of the list.” She patted the bench next to herself but the King remained standing. She shrugged. “You asked Amanda about my ex. Do you still want to know about Rob?”

“It's not a priority.”

She ignored it. “You know what I fell for with Rob in the first place? His attitude. He had this whole devil-may-care thing going on for him. Good looks, lots of confidence, liked to keep me off balance. He liked to test me, to see how far I'd go to make things work. He made me feel like a petulant child but I couldn't stop myself from wanting him to look at me in that special way. He played mind games. Unfair games.”

“I can imagine how that would be an issue,” the King said drily.

“Well, as you know, it didn't work out. We split up in the end and I haven't seen Rob since the divorce was finalized. He was a dick. A puerile man-child. He was you. But that's the thing about fantasy, it doesn't make good husband material. And I had to grow the hell up and realize that.”

Jareth arched an eyebrow.

Sarah chuckled. “You left an impression. I don't blame you for that. As you're so fond of pointing out, you did everything I wanted, even when I didn't know I wanted it.”

“So kind of you to finally notice.”

“I learned my lesson. Now you need to learn yours, Jareth.” She looked up at him, and wondered why she did not feel intimidated at all. His eyes were blue flame in slightly mismatched hues. She ought to be running for cover. “I'm not a teenager. I grew up. If you want to be part of my life, you can be. Even if your reason for wanting it is just to charge your magic battery, I'm okay with that. I like what you've done with my imagination. I'd like you to keep on doing it. I'd like to get to know you, the real you. But you also need to accept that while you were playing big brother to Toby, I grew up. I'm going to keep growing and changing all my life, and hell, some day I'm going to die. I don't need a sexy stalker. I wouldn't mind having a friend.”

The garden fell silent. Not even the fairies in the lilacs fluttered about. Sarah wondered if she had pushed her host too far. Was he capable of stepping outside his assumed persona? How much of that persona was act and how much was the real Jareth?

The silence got pronounced. She faltered a little and groped for a straw in the well before it became unbearable. “I didn't banish all the goblins.”

“I know,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Of course you do. Anyhow, Muffle is pretending to be a pet squirrel at Amanda's place.”

“I told you so. They are fond of you. They're not letting you go.” The King finally sat, causing Sarah to breathe easier. “They're looking for loopholes. They're really, really good at that. If you want to be rid of them you will need to explicitly forbid them to enter your world. They won't like it.”

“Actually, I was hoping you'd tell me how to get them back.”

He laughed again, a musical sound that she found that she rather liked. “Consider the ban lifted.”

“Thank you, Jareth.”

He winked at her roguishly, back in character. “And that only took you two decades and some.”

 


	24. Piece of Cake

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby. And the baby was a spoiled child, and wanted everything to himself, and the young girl was practically a slave." Sharon sighed. "Nicole, you couldn't make this shit up if you tried."

Her friend bit down on a carrot. "Sounds pretty juvenile. Why are you reading that?"

"Tobias – I mean, Toby – asked me to."

The dark girl looked interested. "You saw him? Or did he give you book tips on guild chat again?"

Sharon took a bite out of her sandwich. "He found out where I live. Turned up this morning and gave me this book. It was very odd."

Nicole frowned. "Honey, people need to stop turning up in your yard."

"Don't they just," she agreed with a sigh. "I wonder if Jay wrote this. If he did it's no wonder I never heard of him before. It sucks."

"Doesn't it say on the cover?"

"Nope. Oh, and there's a fox in my yard too."

"Ew. I don't like foxes." Nicole made a disgusted face. "They get into trash cans, you know. Like raccoons. Trash pandas."

Sharon sipped her mineral water. "It's kind of cute. I had the craziest dream about it last night. It started to talk and it sounded like it should be in a children's movie. It kept promising to protect me, and telling me how good its nose was."

Nicole giggled. "Hey, get it to play WoW, we could use a tank more. The Northrend trailer looks like it's going to be brutal."

"Already on the hype train," Sharon agreed. "I don't know what to do with Tobias though."

"Toby. Tobias is his character."

"Whatever. He's really cute. His sister and her boyfriend seem nice. I just wish people would stop telling me what to do."

A squeaky voice under the table whispered, "Did she say the right words?" Neither girl heard.

"Nope," another replied, also unheard.

"I'll tell you what to do," Nicole said and jabbed her friend's elbow with her half-eaten carrot. "You're going to roll the cutest two death knights together when "Lich King" goes live. You're going to rock the DPS charts, and you're going to forget about all this crap."

"I don't know. Pete wants me to roll a healer. You know what they say, a guy really loves you when he wants to play his game with you, and also, he needs a healer." Sharon offered a weak grin. It was one of those internet jokes that did not improve with age.

"Fuck Pete. Except, don't."

Sharon didn't answer. Nicole sighed. She was already thinking like she was back with Pete, and Toby was no more real than Tobias, his online persona, was. Nicole hated it, and she hated not knowing how to make Sharon stop giving in.

* * *

Sarah's apartment smelled like heaven. The cupcakes sat neatly on the kitchen counter and she was applying white sugar icing to one when the key turned in the door. Toby trotted in and threw his bag of books on a chair. He spotted her handiwork with hungry eyes. "I want one."

"You need to wait until I'm done," she admonished him.

"Fine." He yawned. "Geez. You wouldn't believe where I've been."

"Underground?"

"Nope. Suburbia. I was at Sharon's house."

Sarah looked up from her cupcake. "I thought you didn't know where she lives."

"I didn't." He turned a chair around and sat down backwards on it, resting his arms on its back. For some reason he was unable to wipe the grin off his face.

"So how'd you find out?"

"His Sparkliness sent me. Glitter poof with the full honours." He shook his head, chuckling. "He has Sir Dee tasked with watching her."

Sarah put the cupcake on the plate to dry and got started on the next one. "I promised myself I'd stop getting surprised about goblin antics. He's probably just trying to look out for you, Tobes."

"Didymus bit her ex. On the ass."

Sarah frowned. "That doesn't sound like my knight."

Toby shrugged. "Yeah, it sounds exactly like something he would do. This Pete fellow's bad news from the looks of things. And you know how Didymus gets sometimes."

She did know. The fox goblin had not thought twice about rebelling against his own king to protect Sarah in the Labyrinth. Defending a damsel in distress was just the sort of thing he did. It was so much Sir Didymus' thing that Jareth probably had not even been angry about it afterwards. Telling Sir Didymus to not act like a fantasy knight would be like trying to stop the tide with a sieve.

"I'm worried about her, Sarah. I made an idiot out of myself. I told her I respected that she's not ready to tell me things about herself and then I turn up at her house like I don't care. I gave her the book, too."

Sarah blinked. "Most people go for flowers. Wait. You gave her my Labyrinth book? Is that what you wanted it for?"

Toby groaned. "Yes."

"Tobes. Honestly. It's not that good. It's actually kind of awful."

"I know. His Nibs told me to bring it to her."

Sarah put down the spoon and straightened her back. "He really can't not be a manipulative bastard, can he?"

"It'd be out of character for him," her brother agreed darkly. "I thought you'd be mad about it."

"I'm over that." She smiled. "He's a glittery pain in the bum but he does seem to care for you. Are you sure you want Sharon to know about the Underground, though?"

"It's not like she'd believe it anyway," Toby said, then stopped himself. "I could do that. I could actually do that. She can't think I'm a whack job if she's literally standing in the Goblin City, can she?"

Sarah sat on the chair opposite his, leaving cupcakes to be cupcakes. "If Sharon and you are going to be an item, then she's going to have to get used to things getting weird sometimes. Will said that to me the other day. Things turn strange around us every now and then and it's usually because of a goblin. So did King Mullet tell you why Sharon had to have the book?"

"He said she would figure it out."

"I don't think that a guided tour of the Labyrinth is a good idea, Tobes." She looked straight at him.

Toby shook his head, golden curls dancing. "No. I asked. It's not about her wishing herself away to a safe place, or what she thinks is a safe place. I love the Underground, Sis, but it's not exactly a safe place unless you know your way around. But you know how he gets, he went all mysterious on me."

"Good. Sharon didn't strike me as someone who would enjoy the Fireys trying to take her head off. Or running from the Cleaners. Or being groped by the helping hands. Or getting stuck in an oubliette or falling into the Bog of Eternal Stench. The Labyrinth is not all Friendship is Magic. It's made from a kid's imagination. Kids are scared of a lot of things, like losing their head. Being forgotten by everyone, or becoming a social outcast because somebody thinks they stink. Those things are literal and lethal in the Labyrinth. If you lose your head, you do die."

"Well, that took a dark turn," Toby said after a pause.

"Good." Sarah nodded. "Jareth is dangerous. His parasite pocket universe is dangerous. He cares for you and he looks out for you, but don't take anything for granted. Use your own head. Listen to your gut feeling."

"Maybe you shouldn't talk about him like that and use his name. He tends to pick up on that sort of thing."

She picked up an undecorated cupcake and the icing spoon. "If he wants to file a complaint he knows where I live."

Toby's gut feeling told him not to argue that point.

Her brother had had more than one cupcake before going home, but Sarah had made enough for a small army. She had wrapped each in crinkly cellophane and now she was handing them out to her personal gaggle of goblins. They stood in a neat line on her living room floor, each waiting in turn without elbowing or kicking shins. Some of them had bathed. They were on their best behaviour.

"Thank you," Elmo said. He had attempted to comb his mane and now he held the cupcake like it was a precious thing.

"We're sorry," Octavius said when he received his treat. He made big, sorry eyes. A Japanese cartoonist would have been proud of those eyes.

"I'm sorry too, guys. I didn't mean it."

"What's said is said," Hopscotch said dejectedly.

"Well, I'm unsaying it. Never happened. But you guys need to promise me that you won't do something like that again. I can go out with someone and not have you murder innocent goldfish and wreck my date's car."

"I ate the pigeon when it was done pooping on the car," Elmo informed her gravely.

"Look at me. All of you," Sarah said.

Every goblin present looked at her. Even Hopscotch whose attention span was short even for a goblin. She put her hands on her hips much like their enigmatic king might have. "I'm not getting rid of you guys. I know, I messed up with Rob. I'm not going to mess up again. Maybe I meet someone some day and maybe I grow fond of that someone, but I'm not ever going to not want you guys around. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Anastasia agreed. She was folding the cellophane neatly for stashing away somewhere. The other heads bobbed as well, some quicker than others. Sarah had used a lot of words for goblin comprehension.

"Okay." Sarah dropped the dramatic pose and sat down on the floor with them. "Where's Muffle?"

"He's being a squirrel," Elmo said. He had managed to get cupcake icing on his nose and on his elbows.

"Still?"

Anastasia looked at Sarah with a severe expression in her eyes over her pig snout. "The Amanda woman is your friend. You tell her everything."

"I've never told her about you goblins," Sarah objected.

"Did too," Elmo inserted. "You showed her pictures."

"That's not the same at all." It was, though. The only thing she had left out is that the funny figures on her sketches and drawings weren't figments of her imagination. Except, they actually were, after a fashion. It was enough to give her a headache, thinking about it. "All right. When is he coming back? He's not going to have to spy on Amanda to keep track of me now."

Anastasia shrugged. "He likes being a squirrel. The Amanda woman gives him nuts."

Octavius crumpled his cellophane wrapping into a ball and launched it at Hopscotch. The energetic goblin startled as it bounced off his ear and looked around for something to throw back. Sarah handed him a cupcake. It went flying. The resulting food fight did not bother Sarah much. She knew that there wouldn't be a trace of cupcake left anywhere when the goblins were gone, anyway. Just bits of crinkly cellophane and grubby fingerprints on the furniture.

She wondered how long Amanda would manage to keep her apartment pristine like a glossy magazine, with her own pet goblin on the loose.

* * *

The Goblin King lounged on his throne, leg over the armrest. He tapped his riding crop against the cream coloured leather of his boot impatiently, or maybe just thoughtfully. Gamswhack was not sure but the goblin knew better than to ask. After a while, his mercurial lord's gaze came to rest on him again. "Well done," he said generously. "You're still my best tracker, Gamswhack."

Gamswhack, a chubby figure with ram's horns, saluted. "Piece of cake, boss."

"Yes, yes," Jareth said. "I'll take it from here."

The goblin nodded and watched his king fade away before his eyes. He sure was happy not to be in Pete's shoes.

Pete Thompson was technically not in his shoes right now, either. He was singing in the shower. "I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick – "

"Don't give up your day job," Jareth murmured though of course Pete could not hear. He stepped out of the bathroom. The apartment was small, a kitchenette in one end of the living room and a day bed in the other. A table and a couple of chairs served as dinner nook and desk in one. The place was pristine. Even the two throw pillows on the day bed looked like they had been meticulously positioned rather than, well, thrown. Pete Thompson's need for control extended to his possessions.

He switched the potted plants on the window sill around just because he could.

"You're my experimental game, just human nature," Pete bellowed in the shower.

Jareth looked up and a smile danced on his thin lips. He raised his hand and tapped on the light bulb in the lamp over the table. With a little plink it went dark and unscrewed itself. Then he flicked his wrist and a bubble of fragile looking crystal sprang into existence on his palm. It shimmered and became a sixty watts light bulb.

"Now let's shed some light on who you really are," the Goblin King whispered and blew at it. It floated up to take its predecessor's place.

He took the old bulb back to the Underground with him. The more child-like minds among his subjects enjoyed real world junk like that.

  



	25. It's All Valuable, Poppet

The dream came on as if on cue when Sarah fell asleep. Music, dancers. Suggestive leers, wiggling eyebrows, wink wink, nudge nudge, tra la la. She could not be bothered, she just couldn't. She went straight to one of the drapes that sheltered various less than ballroom activities in the pillow pit from view, and tore it down. Then she wrapped it around herself like a makeshift blanket, sat on the chair, and went to sleep in her sleep.

 

* * *

 

“I'm not racist,” Will was telling David the intern as Sarah walked into the office in the morning. “I don't mind a black president. All I'm saying is, he shouldn't be elected because he's black. He should be elected because of what he stands for. Oh, Sarah, I wanted to talk to you, could we – “

“Not if you're going to talk politics at me we can't,” she replied.

He chuckled. “We're just discussing the candidates.”

“My money's on McCain,” David said firmly.

“And mine aren't,” Will said. “Anyhow, I need to tell you that the elf prints got approved. They're requesting a few minor changes, nothing that will keep you up at night. Any chance you can have that wrapped up this week?”

“Sure thing.”

A phone rang. David went to answer it.

“How are you today?” Will asked.

Sarah returned his gaze evenly. “I'm okay. All healthy. I ate all the chicken soup and now I'm fit for fight. All rearing to go, send me in, coach. I feel great. I've slept like a baby. Best sleep I've had in weeks.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it. Did you change your hair?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

Her editor looked her up and down. “I don't know,” he said finally. “There's something changed about you. My ex-wife always got angry I didn't notice when she went to the hair dresser. I thought I might be doing it again.”

Sarah chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. My hair's the same mess it's always been. Will, about that.”

“About my ex-wife?”

“No. About, you know.”

He nodded, and offered a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I know. I'm not as over her as I thought I was. Maybe all those bad things on our date happened for a reason. A sign from above, if you will.”

Relief washed over her. “Well, I wouldn't aim that high, but yeah. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.”

“No hard feelings, right?”

“No hard feelings,” she agreed. “Hey, we can still go out for a beer sometime. Amanda can join, then it's definitely not a date.”

“That'd be great. Really great.” He took a deep breath. “So, want to come and look at the changes? It's mostly about the water wheel, the client thinks the elves riding it are overkill. Wants you to remove the one with the big nose.” He practically radiated relief.

She probably did too.

When lunch break rolled around Sarah went to the usual place with Amanda. They chatted inanely on the way there but once they were seated Amanda got straight to the point. “You and Will. Spill.”

Sarah laughed. “He broke up with me, you know. If you can even say breakup after one date.”

“Well, there's something I didn't see coming.” Amanda nodded. “All right. Okay. Chocolate and chick flicks time?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine. I'm actually relieved. I thought about it a lot. I love having Will for a boss but I don't love the idea of waking up next to him. I was thinking of how to wiggle out of any second dates without hurting his feelings.”

“Scratch the chick flicks, then. The chocolate stays. It's always chocolate time.”

“How's your pet squirrel?”

Amanda blinked. “I'm worried about your heartbreak and you want to know about my squirrel.” She giggled. “He's fine. I'm calling him Nutso. I know, I know. Stupid name but hey, I'm not the artist here.”

Sarah giggled too. “Nutso.”

“He eats nuts. That's what squirrels do. He also leaves dirty paw prints on my window. You wouldn't believe how dirty squirrel paws can get. It's driving me insane.” Amanda rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. “How's Gareth?”

“Well, that was out of left field.”

“You started it. Besides, he's the reason you're not sad about Will, so it's pretty midfield if you ask me.”

Sarah stretched her legs. “Well, we did have a talk. I laid down some ground rules. He wasn't happy. He pouted a lot.”

Amanda tilted her head and looked like she was trying to imagine that. “Cute pout or man-baby pout?”

“Icy stare and stony silence.”

“Okay. Does this guy have any redeeming qualities at all, besides being hot as hell?”

She laughed. “Actually, yes. There's one thing I really do like about him. He looks out for my kid brother. Toby's crushing hard on a girl and Jareth is trying to help him sort things out. I appreciate that. And that's Jareth with a jay, not with a jee. We actually call him Jay, not Gary.”

“Isn't Toby a little old for the bees and the birds talk? How old is he? Twenty?”

“She's hardly his first girlfriend but she's the first he ever came over to my place to talk about.”

Amanda whistled. “Must be serious. You sure Ga--Jay is the right role model for your brother, though?”

Sarah shook her head. “Hell no. Toby knows he can be a prick at times, though. I just appreciate that he's trying. Give a man credit where credit is due, and all that.”

“Whatever you say,” Amanda ceded and turned her attention to the salad on her plate, picking the olives out.

She thinks I'm in love with the Goblin King, Sarah realized. Well, with Jay Not Gareth. Jay who strutted around and pretended he was named after some Irish murder-fairy. Jay who ripped his wardrobe from the eighties' glam rock scene and hair metal bands. Stalker Jay. Jay the prick. He had made a bad impression on Amanda, all right. Well, that could be fixed --

Oh boy.

She tried to tune back in to reality. Amanda had isolated all the olives and put them in detention at the far edge of her plate. She was talking and Sarah hoped that her failure to pay attention would go unnoticed. Life ought to come with convenient cut scenes and camera pans, she thought. Seasonal cliffhangers. Great for giving you three months of time in which to think.

“So the little prick mailed me back this morning and told me that the only reason I am rejecting his manuscript is that I'm a feminist, what gives?” Amanda rolled her eyes dramatically. “Excuse me? Don't you hate it when some entitled idiot thinks the only reason a woman can disagree with him is because she's a lesbian or a feminist, or both?”

“This is the one who was essentially rewriting Lord of the Rings in young adult?”

“Bingo. He's got a man crush on Orlando Bloom the size of Massachusetts.”

“Maybe he just needs to come out of the closet,” Sarah suggested with a smile.

“Ha. Maybe. It still pisses me the hell off to be called feminist as an insult, though.”

Sarah was more than happy to engage her brain with issues that did not involve otherworldly nobility. “Well, people use that word differently. It used to mean women who want equal rights and equal pay – “

“Which we still don't have, by the way.”

“-- and I guess it's been changed to mean women who want to be more powerful or have more rights than men. At least it has to some people. I mean, to me, it means someone who wants gender equality.”

Amanda scoffed. “Comparing me to a crazed matriarchy militant because I don't like a writer's proposal is not fair.”

Sarah shrugged. “It's not fair but it's how it is. Sometimes, all you can do about someone is to sit and imagine them receiving cruel and unusual punishment involving sporks and spikes, and then get on with your life.”

“Sometimes, writing rejection slips is -fun-,” Amanda said with the sincerity of someone who was already mentally composing the letter of all letters to end somebody's writer dreams. “I'm going to play rejection bingo with this guy. Within a week he'll be calling me a feminazi.”

“If you don't get called a bitch you're not trying hard enough?”

“Do I sound petty? That's because I'm feeling petty.”

They both laughed.

* * *

 

The Labyrinth's vast junk yard was a quiet place. Most of the Underground's residents avoided the area if possible, and hurried through if they had to visit. It was not because of the smell. There were places in the Labyrinth that smelled a lot worse. One of them smelled so bad it had become infamous for smelling bad. It was not that you might bang your foot on something and to find that it was some relic of a long forgotten memory that you just ruined your shoe on. No, it was the junk ladies that made even the laid back Fireys take a detour.

They were not malicious. They were not kind, either. They were compulsive hoarders, carrying all their possessions on their backs in bundles that defied gravity. Granted, gravity was one of those laws of physics that the Labyrinth often neglected to pay its subscription to. Talk to one, and you might end up having to admire her collection of memorabilia and bric-a-brac for days. Or she might pick up the nearest object and use it as a club or broom to chase you off her lawn, figuratively speaking. They were unpredictable and chaotic, and they saw jewels where other people saw trash. Even the goblins thought the junk ladies were obsessed with trash.

In some form, they always existed. As long as humans had sported the capacity to grow fond of inanimate objects and then forget about them later, the Underground had sported junk ladies in some form or other. If one was to dig deep enough in their piles, one might find little granite statues of naked, obese women.

The Goblin King was actually rather proud of them. He threw a smile to the one that was looking up at him from under its – her – immense load of thrown-away mementos. “I've brought you a gift.”

“What is it? More of your enchanted fruit, pet?” The crooked creature, vaguely reminiscent of an old lady, held out her clawed hands eagerly all the same.

“Something much better,” the Goblin King promised, still smiling. He opened his palm. A sixty watts light bulb materialized on it, coming to rest on the black leather of his glove.

Her mouth formed an 'o' shape. “What is it?”

He tilted his head and looked at the object on his hand. “It's a light bulb, nothing more. When used in the right way, it sheds light on things.”

The Junk Lady snatched it from his hand. “I want it. What do I have to do in return?”

The King gracefully folded his arms behind his back. His frock coat rustled as he took a step backwards. “It has a magical counterpart Aboveground. Just keep this one with you, and the other one will do its work up there.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “All I have to do is keep it?”

“You have to give it the best spot on your hoard,” he said solemnly. “It is very valuable.”

The junk lady looked up at him as if she thought him slightly slow on the uptake. “It's all valuable, poppet. All of it.”

He offered her no answer, unless one counted a soft laugh that dissipated on the wind as the realm's enigmatic ruler faded away from sight. You can't put sound or wind on a mantelpiece, so she didn't.

 

* * *

“Casual Friday is fine,” Robert Williams said while helping himself to more potatoes. “But some of those young people would find it easier to land a job if they made a little bit more effort. It's no use turning up looking like you spent all weekend out partying when you're trying to sell people insurance, that's all I'm saying.”

“Unless you're trying to look like people should take out insurance against you?” Sarah quipped. The Williams Sunday family dinner was well under way. As usual, her stepmother's cooking was out of this world. Somewhere in poultry Heaven, the chicken was thanking its maker that it got to play the lead role.

“Ha ha,” her father replied drily. “I sell safety. Comfort. I sell freedom from worries. If I want people to buy, I need to look safe, dependable, and reliable. Turning up with those things in the nose or eyebrow just isn't going to work. Looking like I spent the night in a dumpster wouldn't make a sale.”

“Times change, dear.” Sarah's stepmother smiled at her husband. “I'm sure the kids put a lot of effort into looking like they didn't these days. I can't begin to imagine how many bottles of hair spray I used when I was that age.”

“Plateau boots. Face paint,” Robert said darkly.

“Wild drug addictions,” his wife supplied.

“Knitted men's underwear,” Robert added with great conviction and an undertone of personal suffering.

“Seasons in the Sun.”

“What's wrong with sunshine?” Toby asked.

His mother laughed. “It's a song, dear. A very, very sappy song. It's about a man who is dying and saying goodbye to all his friends.”

“Well,” Sarah said with a sideways glance at her brother. “The eighties had Rick Astley.”

“You did not just rick roll us at the dinner table,” Toby groaned.

“Wake me Up Before You Go-Go.”

“The Final Countdown,” her brother countered.

Their parents exchanged glances. “The kids should still consider what job they are applying for when it comes to appearance, at least if they hope for me to hire them,” Robert said at length.

“We do,” Toby pointed out. “Mom's not wrong. Some of the guys in my classes obsess about their piercings and stuff. Some of the girls I study with run around in fruit print yoga tights and black lipstick.”

“I did not realize you were into fashion,” his father said and reached for the milk.

“Of course I am,” the youth said with a wink to his sister. “A wise man once told me that one should always choose one's appearance and the stage upon which to appear. Can't leave important things like that to chance.”

She managed to not choke on her chicken.

 

 


	26. Pass on the Peach Pie

The night was quiet without a cloud to detract from the brillance of the stars overhead. Summer was not going to last forever, and the breeze had the first crisp tinge of fall. Sarah had opted to walk home from her parents' house. It was not far, but still far enough that she got to enjoy the quiet and the solitude of the stroll. She had a lot to think about.

Twenty-two years and some months of fear. Well, not twenty years of living in terror. Just a nagging awareness at the back of her mind that there was something not quite human out there, and it probably did not like her very much. She was not sorry for what she had said and done in the Labyrinth all those years ago, not at all. With the Labyrinth's denizens popping in for regular visits, though, she had never forgotten that the one most powerful of them all very likely nursed a few grudges.

Maybe he did. Maybe not. Twenty-two years had not made him any less enigmatic, though apparently a bit less prone to random song and dance outbursts. Sarah would not figure out how his mind worked if she dedicated a lifetime to it, of that she was certain. She did feel confident that he was telling the truth. He meant Toby no harm. He cared for her brother. He had been pretty up front and down to business about why he wanted her back in the Underground.

Or at least one of the reasons.

She looked at the stars. The Goblin King had said something about not moving those for anyone, two decades ago. She wondered if he meant it literally. He felt, or heard, or somehow sensed it when she thought about him for some time. He had said as much. Sarah could not help a small laugh. He would need to get used to that because she could not get her mind to lay off the subject.

She corrected herself silently. She did not want her mind to lay off the subject.

Her heels clicked on the sidewalk in a way that pavement did not usually click. She looked down. She was walking on gravel. Around her, the Victorian style houses of the neighbourhood faded away to be replaced by hedgerows and a heady smell of jasmine. A lawn gnome with a plastic wheelbarrow turned into a small stone vase. An improvement in landscaping design, that.

Booted footfalls fell into stride next to her. The Goblin King's frock coat was dark blue and the shirt even more frilly than usual. Sequins on his shoulders sparkled to rival the stars overhead. His riding boots were glossy black, polished to the point she bet he could use them for a shaving mirror, should he feel thus inclined. Choose the appearance, and the stage, indeed.

"I'd like to be asked before I get teleported," Sarah murmured. She actually did not mind right then, but some bad habits should be nipped in the bud.

Jareth half-smiled. "Oh, but you did. Just not in so many words."

She stopped walking in order to take a proper look around. "This is the hedge maze. I met the old man and his talking hat here. The one that called me senorita."

He nodded. "Quite so."

"Are they still around?" She could not see far in the dark. It had been daylight when she came rushing through this place, all those years ago.

The King gestured breezily. "They're here. Somewhere."

Sarah looked back at him and leaned against a stone railing. "You seem a little preoccupied. Did you call on me at a bad time?"

He smirked. "It may surprise you to hear but I do in fact not sit on my throne all day, waiting for a stray thought or dream from you to drift in my general direction."

She turned her palms up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just cashing in on my promise to spend time here, then?"

Blue eyes glittered with amusement. "You were making it hard for me to ignore you."

Sarah felt her cheeks grow a little warmer. "I guess. You do realize that this whole mind reading thing is all kinds of creepy, I hope."

Jareth nodded, and locks of wild, golden hair with streaks of blue danced. "I do not hold your private thoughts against you. The mind tends to wander where it will."

"So does that mean that you can't help listening in, or that you don't want to stop listening in?"

He shrugged. "Come now, Sarah, I've told you before. Your fantasies are amusing but they are hardly shocking."

The sky overhead held no familiar constellations. The stars were a little too sparkly, a little too bright, like the sequins on the Goblin King's jacket. "It's an unfair advantage," she groused.

A winged eyebrow rose. "After all this time, you still go on about fairness. You can be a horribly slow learner sometimes, Sarah Williams."

She resisted the urge to jab him in the ribs. "If you had someone listening in on your thoughts and watching your dreams you'd be annoyed about it too, Goblin King."

He leaned against the bannister next to her, close enough that their hands almost touched. "Probably. If you depended on a stubborn girl for the happiness of everyone in your world, you might be a trifle frustrated yourself."

Sarah smiled. "Woman. I'm not a girl. If I was still a girl I'd be stomping my feet and yelling at you."

"Believe me, I'm aware." He returned her smile, though.

"I got used to goblins. I can get used to my thoughts being used as an excuse for magical abductions as long as I still end up in my apartment by morning. The mind reading though, Jareth, that's going to be difficult. I don't think you actually understand how intrusive that is."

Jareth threw his head back and laughed. "Intrusive? You think me intrusive?"

She blinked. "Well, if watching my dreams on wide screen isn't intrusive I don't know what the hell is."

He kept smiling, obviously amused. "Sarah, you don't know what intrusive even means. You find it a little unsettling that you cannot keep your mind off my person. I had to design that person, and the whole world around that person, to the adolescent whims of a teenage girl who did not know what she actually wanted. I like your imaginary world, Sarah, and I want to keep it around for some time yet. But don't insinuate that I violate your privacy."

She put her hands in the pockets of her coat and started to walk again. The King fell into stride, again. "My subconscious mind, aged fifteen, is your road map, is what you're saying."

"Pretty much."

"I remember what it's like to be a teen. I almost feel sorry for you now. Almost." She chuckled, then looked at her companion. He really did look formidable in the starlight, though of course he did so in a fashion that belonged in mid-eighties music videos. One with unicorns and girls in white ballroom dresses. "You know, there was a time I would wonder how come most of the creatures in the Underground looked like toys in my room. I wondered whether the toys came first, or the Labyrinth did, and if the Labyrinth came first, then why did my parents get me the toys, that sort of thing. Chicken and egg."

"The toys came first, obviously."

"Yeah. Because you used my daydreams about them as building blocks. Why me? Do you have any idea how much time I spent afterwards, trying to figure out what you meant with 'not a gift for an ordinary girl'? I'm not all that special, Jareth. I mean, I'm happy with who I am and what I have. Happy with where I am in my life. But if you get down and technical about it, I am pretty ordinary."

One of the blue streaks in his hair sparkled, rendering him a mischievous air. "You're not ordinary to me."

"And why is that?"

The King waved his gloved hand imperiously. "Do not ask those questions. You would not try to explain the difference between magnolia white and eggshell white to a man who was born blind. I am not going to try to explain the physics of my world to you. Just enjoy the fact that it exists."

"Actually, that wouldn't be so hard. The texture of magnolias and eggshells aren't even remotely similar."

He rolled his eyes at her. "My world does not follow the same laws of continuity that yours does. You know this. You knew it twenty years ago. Why not bring your little army of renegades to my castle to help overpower the evil kidnapper like you did my pint-sized army of largely ineffectual goblin soldiers? You had to face me alone because that's how it's done. Why did you not at least twist an ankle or at least get a few cuts and bruises when my castle fell down around us? Because that would not have suited the narrative. Our worlds work in different ways because they are different worlds."

"Okay. That's fair. Say, does this place have a Starbucks?"

Jareth laughed. "Do your books not warn against eating the fruits of goblin men?"

"I'd definitely pass on the peach pie," she quipped.

"Allow me to send you home, then. It seems only fair I do the honours after borrowing you off the street." He raised one hand, and the air began to shimmer on it. A crystal was forming on his palm.

"Actually," Sarah interrupted him. "I'd like to stay. I just want to pick up a cup of coffee from somewhere. Do you think goblins can learn to say 'Espresso Con Panna'?

"They can hold up a note and compare the letters."

"Right." She rummaged in her pocket for money.

* * *

Sharon stood alone in the Temple of the Moon and watched the adventurers come and go. The city of Darnassus was a beautiful place, though a tad cartoony in places. The entire world of the online role-playing game was like that. Beautiful, but also child friendly. A fair bit of the game revolved around killing people and monsters but there was no blood. Things just lie down and look like they fell asleep, and then they fade away, Sharon thought. The people and monsters you killed were always evil and they had always deserved it. Everything had a purpose, everything happened for a reason.

Her wrist ached from where Pete had held it earlier. A real life healing potion would be nice. Her character had been idle for too long and sat down. She clicked the mouse button to make it stand up again.

"Just standing around again?" Nicole messaged her in the game.

"Trying to find a good look for a healer," she replied.

"Didn't we talk about this?" The reply was immediate, and while text infamously failed to convey tone, she knew that Nicole was unhappy. "You're not going to be Pete's pocket healer."

"He was really mad today," Sharon replied.

"Pete's always mad, he's a !#$% moron."

She should turn the profanity filter off. It made her giggle. "Call me?" she typed out.

* * *

The Labyrinth's golden half-light failed to penetrate the clumps of bright pink and purple lilacs. The shadows under the bushes were as deep and black as the flowers themselves were bright and intense. The green of the foliage seemed a hushed shade, as if the leaves were a bit flustered to find themselves completely upstaged. The lilac garden still had that surreal feel to it, as if it was made out of colours and memories.

"I know I've seen this before somewhere," Sarah murmured.

"Of course you have," Jareth replied and made a sweeping gesture with his riding crop, wherever that had come from. "It hung in your room when you were a baby. You liked the colours."

She blinked. "Oh my god. I'm standing in a Monet. I'm going to have coffee in a Monet."

Her companion strolled across the lawn. "Then you should do it properly." He disappeared in between the colourful flowers.

She followed him to the bush. "What do you mean, properly?"

"Tch, Sarah. You still think I have no knowledge of contemporary culture." The King chuckled and then sat in the deep, deep shade of the lilac bush. "Monet's lilacs sport French ladies seeking shade."

"Monet's hardly contemporary," she pointed out with a trace of pedantry, before parting the low-hanging branches to squeeze into the shadow.

A gaggle of goblins burst into existence from nowhere. One minute the lawn was empty, bathed in shafts of the Labyrinth's golden half-light, and the next it was full of goblins. They reminded Sarah of depictions of victorious hunting parties. The great white hunter – that would be Octavius, the smart one. Behind him, Truff and Elmo carried a tray proudly between them. In their wake, half a dozen admiring goblins. Badger wore a brand new Starbucks cap.

The hunting party made it to the bushes. The two cups on the tray floated into the hands of their intended owners. "Thank you," the Goblin King said. "I trust it was not too much of a challenge?"

Hopscotch bounced around on the lawn, performing a victory dance of his own making with great gusto. A chubby goblin that looked like it wore a porcupine for a hat stomped out a somewhat erratic rhythm. "Didn't see nothing, Sire," Elmo confirmed.

Sarah turned her cup in her hand. "This says 'Abby'."

"Sarah," Elmo said firmly.

She looked at their king. "Your goblins are thieving little monsters, you know that?"

"Yes. And so do you."

"What does yours say?"

He turned the cup with gloved fingers and looked at it. "Naveen. It appears to be a Caramel Macchiato. Pity."

 


	27. Family is Not Always Blood

The most annoying thing about friends and family was that they had lives of their own, Toby thought. It was not fair to expect them to sit around waiting for him to drop everything and give them a call, but it would have been convenient if they did. He lounged on his chair, one leg over the armrest, and toyed with the computer mouse. The monitor displayed a YouTube video but he had the sound turned off.

"Why are you upset, Toby?"

Anastasia and Sheacker sat on his bed. The two girl goblins were reading Popular Science. Every once in a while they would point at a glossy picture and burst into high-pitched laughter. They were not actually reading, he knew that. The last magazine they had gone over had been an ancient copy of Cosmopolitan that they had found in the attic. Before that, a copy of Hustler from the early seventies and he had no idea where they'd get their hands on something like that to begin with.

He waved a hand dismissively. "I can't get Sarah to pick up her cell."

"Oh, that's because she's in the Underground," Sheacker said absentmindedly.

Toby blinked. "She was here like, an hour ago."

"And now she's not," Sheacker finished helpfully. The goblin bore a vague resemblance to a frog.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I guess that means the big man is also out of circulation. If he's not actually right next to her, he's sure as hell watching her," Toby groused.

Both goblins shrugged and looked at their magazine. They might not gush about their mercurial monarch but they were loyal in their own way.

"I shouldn't have said that," Toby admitted. "I'm worried about Sharon, that's why."

"Talk to her?" Anastasia suggested and pointed at the computer.

"I -did-," he sighed. "She just seems... Off. Like there's something she's not telling me. And Nicole is all, well, now is a bad time, it'll sort itself out. Well, that's fine but it doesn't help me figure out what's wrong."

Anastasia hopped off the bed and walked over to pat his knee. "Don't worry, Toby," she said solemnly. "The King will fix it."

"Yeah," Toby said. "That's part of what I'm worried about."

* * *

A blanket had appeared somehow, made from dark wool and sparkles. Sarah lounged on it, resting her weight on one elbow while sipping her espresso. "This is nice," she murmured. "There's just one thing."

Next to her, sitting cross-legged and evidently not one to worry about grass stains, the Goblin King arched his winged eyebrows.

"The sun," she pointed out. "When I got here it was night. The stars were out. Then you transported us here, and it's day. I'm getting jet lag. Poof lag. Is that even a thing?"

"It seems to be now," Jareth conceded. "Would you prefer the darkness?"

She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "I don't know what's worse. That you can actually do that, or that you're so goddamn flippant about it."

Mismatched eyes glittered with amusement. "Sarah, there is very little I cannot do in my own world. Your wish is, as ever, my command."

She poked her tongue out at him. "Because you're just that generous."

"Very much so."

"Not a trace of self interest in your actions whatsoever. You're a veritable saint."

He laughed softly. She no longer felt threatened by his laugh. "Did I say that?" A fairy flew too close to its king and found itself dismissed with the thwack of a riding crop. She had not even noticed he was carrying one until then.

"I still don't know that I even like you much," Sarah admitted. "But I'm starting to see what Toby means when he says you're never boring." She put the cup down and rolled over on her stomach to look at him. "You're trying to become my friend. Because I said I wanted a friend, not a stalker."

"That's certainly part of my agenda, yes. We've been over this. I accomodate your wishes as I am best able."

"Why do you bother?" she asked seriously.

His eyebrows shot up. "I told you so. I like this fantasy. I want to keep it for a while longer."

"Yes, you said that. But that's not the only reason, Jareth." Speaking his name freely still felt odd. "You also said I'm not ordinary to you. I'm not fishing for compliments. I want to know what it is you think is special about me, and I don't want to hear that I have beautiful eyes. The world is full of teenage girls with over-active imaginations."

"Why not you? Yes, the world is full of dreamers. I pick the ones that appeal to me or intrigue me for some reason or other. I've enjoyed yours. I'm positive I will continue to enjoy what you add to my realm."

"But your wanting to stick around is also about Toby."

He nodded. "Of course it is. I've helped raise Toby in spite of your attempts to deny me. I have been his mentor. I care for him as much as you care for the band of goblins that infest your apartment. Family is not always blood."

"Does my brother know?"

The King stretched his legs. Not a single speck of dirt had dared creep onto the fabric. "Children leave the nest. All parents must face that loss, eventually. He will not forget me. He will just have – other priorities. Life works that way."

"Yes," Sarah said softly. "Life works that way for people. But you're not people, and you're older than dirt. It must get lonely being whatever you are."

Something dark flashed across the Goblin King's eyes, rendering his light eye as dark and stormy as its companion. Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, a thunderstorm averted. "You have more questions," he said airily. "You always will it be this time?"

She rested her chin on one hand, looking at him. He cut a striking figure against the dark foliage and the bright clumps of lilac. "All right. What happens to me when you do get bored?"

He tapped a finger tip against his lip thoughtfully. "Mm-hmm. Well. I could toss you into an oubliette to never be seen or heard from again. Maybe I could tell you that I'm sorry, but I think we need to see other people. Or I could tell you to not call me, I'll call you."

Sarah lifted her empty cup threateningly. "Don't make me use this, Your Flippancy."

Jareth raised a hand dismissively. "You are no longer fourteen. I am not going to make ludricrous promises. I mean you no ill. Leave it at that."

"No." She shook her head. "Sorry, no, I don't think I will. You don't think I'll understand. I get that. Well, maybe I won't. But you owe me the right to try. It's my life, and you're gunning to become a pretty big part of it."

He sighed, deeply, and dragged his hand down his face, an entirely over-dramatic gesture. "Why must you be so difficult? I cannot explain how my world works to you. It's magical. That is the very definition of magic: That you cannot explain it with your conventional laws of physics. You will have trust me."

"Try me."

The King rolled onto his back and put his arms under his head, legs outstretched, looking at the flowery foliage overhead. An ordinary man would have had to send his coat to dry-cleaning after doing something like that. "How does magic work? Some scholars will tell you it occurs in accordance with will. They will say that intent is everything. The physical trappings of spells are just stage props to help you focus, all that really matters is the strength of the will of the one casting the spell. If you focus your intent precisely enough and manipulate the necessary energy, change comes about. Maybe that is the sort of explanation that will appeal to you."

"That makes me want to ask -"

"Yes," he cut her short. "There are always more questions. This is why I seek out the dreams of children. They look at what I make, and they don't get sidetracked asking how I made it. Children ask why. Adults ask how."

Sarah nodded slowly. "Touché."

* * *

The courtiers and their ladies looked like they had taken most of their inspiration from a Venetian masquerade. They wore leather and satin and ostrich feathers. Jewels glittered and diamonds sparkled. Draperies billowed on unfelt winds. The music was unobtrusive yet it somehow managed to drown out any sound of conversation. Pete could hear the sparkles in the champagne flutes but not the sound of his own feet as he walked across the dance floor.

There had to be a way out somewhere. He was not sure what kind of dream this was. He was not usually aware that he was dreaming when he was. This, however, was as lucid as it got. And wrong, so very wrong.

No one was dancing. They were all watching him. Some of them lounged on comfortable looking chairs. Some slouched against the wall, and some sat on pillows. Some studied him over the edge of beautifully painted fans, while others openly looked him up and down as if they were silently judging him.

He did not like it. He did not like it at all.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he challenged a dark haired courtier who wore a lion's mask. The man smiled blithely at him but said nothing. It was infuriating. "Talk to me, you Spanish ass!"

Pete blinked his eyes and the man was gone. Had he been yelling at a stone column? This dream was getting whacked. He turned and yanked a crimson fan from the hand of a lady in a matching dress. "What do you want from me!"

She laughed, he could see that, but there was no sound, only ball room music. Then she floated away on rays of moonlight and he realized he was yelling at a punch bowl on the table. It smelled like peaches.

Something was off about the table. He took a closer look.

It was laid out wrong. The flower decorations were not in alignment. The forks and spoons were mixed around. One seat had had its crystal wine glass switched out with an orange plastic mug with a dancing Snoopy print.

He picked it up and slammed against the wall. Not a single person stepped up to tell him to stop it. They all just stood there and judged him silently, measuring him, evaluating him –

He picked up the flower decoration, glass bowl and all, and threw it at them.

They smiled and tittered and kept watching, and every time he tried to break the spell they turned into something else. But their mocking laughter remained.

* * *

Sarah knew she had fallen asleep under the lilacs because she woke up on her sofa wearing her clothes. Her coat lay neatly folded at the foot end. With her ferret's instinct for seeking out warm, confined space, Bikkit had gone to sleep inside one of its arms. She stretched her arms over her head, then fished out the ferret. It curled up on her lap and put its tail over its eyes, showing no interest in waking up.

Eight missed calls from Toby on her cell. Most of them had been sent within the space of an hour after Sarah had left their parents' house to walk home. She sighed. If a certain someone was capable of altering data on storage devices, he would not have found silencing her phone to be much of a challenge. On the whole, his interpretation of the whole no power thing seemed to be highly circumstantial. She yawned, and sent Toby a text to come by in the morning, maybe.

She wondered if that was how the Underground fed on her. She had been tired when she returned the other times but it had not surprised her then. Being afraid makes you tired when the danger is over. Going on photo-shoot excursions makes you tired. This time, though? She had had coffee. A delicious espresso with a generous dollop of whipped cream, hand-stolen for her by the finest goblins of the realm, but still – not quite coma inducing.

Then she fell asleep on the sofa, still dressed, ferret snoring lightly on her chest.

 


	28. Personality Type Mouse

Sarah had showered, made coffee, and settled down with her computer when the key turned in the door lock and her brother let himself in. He looked like a drowned rodent of unusual size. The weather outside had turned bad and from the looks of her brother, the rain was bordering on torrential. Poor Will, Sarah thought. He's going to have to wait for a prettier version of Anastasia on the waterwheel. She just couldn't seem to find the time. ”'Allo, Tobes.”

The youth threw his wet coat over a chair. His hair was dripping. ”Got my texts?”

Sarah gave him a look that spoke of dunce caps. ”Would I text you to drop in while I'm working if I hadn't? What's the emergency? And get a towel for your hair.”

”Yeah, yeah.” Toby disappeared briefly into the bathroom only to resurface rubbing a towel around in his yellow curls. Chartreuse was not his colour. ”It's Sharon.”

”Now there is a surprise. Get those wet sneakers off already.”

”Are you sure you're not my mom?” He kicked the offending footwear off all the same.

”Yes,” his sister replied. ”I think I would remember something like that. Now what has Sharon done?”

Toby looked pained. ”It's more what she's not doing. It's like we're back to square one. She doesn't have time to talk. She can't hang out online. She keeps burying herself in pee vee ee and --”

”In what?”

”Pee Vee Ee. Player versus Environment. Like raiding and going into dungeons and stuff.”

Sarah nodded, feeling little the wiser. ”Right. So, keeping too busy for you, you mean.”

”Yeah. I don't know what to do.”

She frowned. ”Well, for one thing you need to not be texting me at midnight like it's the end of the world. I'm sorry, kiddo, it's not the end of the world. Whatever is going on, it's not worth skipping school for, either.”

Toby rolled his baby blues. ”You don't understand.”

Sarah put her digital pen down and looked straight at her brother. ”You're wrong. I do understand. Look at me, I'm actually a member of the girl species. Sometimes, guys just come on too strong. Maybe Sharon's got something going on in her life right now that she needs to deal with. Maybe she just feels you're pushing too hard. Either way, you need to respect it.”

He shifted in his seat. ”It's not just that. Look, Jareth has Sir Dee on a stake-out in her yard. He bit a guy.”

Sarah blinked. Slowly. ”Sir Didymus bit someone?”

”It's a guy named Pete. Sir Dee bit him hard enough to tear his jeans apart. He's Sharon's ex and he apparently thinks he owns her.”

Sarah stood and walked over to get herself another mug of coffee, sweet, dark nectar of life. ”I almost feel sorry for Pete.”

Her brother stared at her blankly.

Sarah shrugged. ”You said it yourself. He's got the Underground to contend with. You think the Goblin King wants to stay on my good side? Imagine what he'll do to stay on yours. This guy is lucky he's not being torn apart by Fireys as we speak.” She paused. ”So that's why Sharon had to have the book.”

”What do you mean?”

Sarah walked back to her chair. ”Well, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? His Conniving Majesty is hoping she'll get mad enough to say the right words.”

”Good.” Toby's smirk was worthy of his mentor.

”Don't prepare the oubliette just yet, Tobes. People don't actually go around wishing that the goblins would come take their stalkers away. Sharon's not a kid with her nose in a fairytale like I was. You're not going to find her in the park dressing up and reciting lines from a play at people that annoy her.” She sipped the coffee. ”If I'm right about this hunch, though, we're about to see a new side of our mutual glitterific acquaintance.”

”I hope so,” her brother agreed with sadistic hope.

Sarah nodded at him firmly. ”Don't get too bloodthirsty, Tobes. Now get your lanky bum to class before your mother finds out. She'd give me hell about it.”

He rolled his blue eyes again. ”I'm not fifteen.”

* * *

The rain had not eased up in the slightest in the afternoon when Sarah met Amanda for a late lunch at their usual café. If anything, it had increased in strength and there was a whiff of ozone on the wind, promising thunder in the making. Pulling her coat up around her ears and trying to fend off the autumn storm with an umbrella had been only so successful. At least everyone else looked as frazzled and wet as she did.

”This is a weather for soup,” Amanda declared. She'd arrived first. ”I got us both cream of mushroom. My treat.”

”What's the occasion?” Sarah resisted the urge to try to wring out her ponytail.

”I'm a slut whore bitch and he's gone back to writing fan fiction.” Amanda beamed like she had won a great, personal victory.

Sarah laughed. ”Crushing the poor man's hopes like that.”

Amanda shook her head and dipped her spoon into the creamy soup. ”Nope. Not sorry. Maybe if this guy writes Lords of the Rings fan fiction for a decade or two he'll actually pick up on some of what made Tolkien great. And if that happens, then I'll be happy to read his stuff. But right now? Hell no. I'd rather proof read shampoo bottles for eternity.”

”A very personalized hell.” Sarah dipped her own spoon and dunked a mushroom.

”A lot of great writers started out with fan fiction. It's good exercise. But you don't get to rename the characters and try to pass it off as your own. You can toss it up on some website for free, but that's it. And some authors won't even allow that much.”

”Yeah?” Sarah couldn't resist. ”I heard Twilight started out as a Harry Potter fan fic.”

Amanda groaned and pretended that she was going to plant her face in the soup bowl. ”Don't remind me. Okay? Just don't. Twilight is why Anne Rice won't allow fan fiction, I'm telling you.”

She tasted the soup. It was absolute dreamy, creamy delight. ”Fine. There's something I wanted to ask you about anyway. Girl talk.”

”Good,” Amanda said gravely. ”Then I won't need to commit suicide by chantarel.”

”You remember Jay.” It was not a question. ”I'm going to need to spend some time with him. He's trying to sort out some issues for my brother and I'm worried he might get carried away a little.”

”Of course I remember Jay. What I don't remember is whether we hate him or love him today.”

Sarah giggled. ”A bit of both, I think. Anyhow. My brother is seeing this girl but she won't commit to being his girlfriend because of her ex. He's stalking her, apparently. Turning up in her yard at night, threatening her, that sort of thing.”

”You told me he had a crush, yeah. Didn't tell me about the stalker. Has she called the police yet?”

”She's nineteen or twenty, I don't know. From what I've seen of her, she's personality type mouse.”

”The kind that a sociopath walks all over, then.”

Sarah nodded. ”Well, that's what Toby thinks. And from what I'm hearing, it's not all off the mark, either.”

Amanda licked her spoon. ”So what is Jay going to do about it? Because if you ask little observant me, he's got a few markers for sociopathy himself.”

”Hah. No. He's a narcissist, if he's anything. And he really does care for Toby.”

”Good man, Jay. He wins a cookie.”

Sarah sipped her mineral water. ”Yeah. I'm not unhappy about that. But what I need advice on is spending time with the guy. If we're going to be rubbing elbows I want to make an impression.”

Amanda's eyes gleamed with mirth. ”So that's your angle.”

Sarah blushed.

”Riight. Well, you've got the looks, honey.” Amanda pointed at her friend's hair with her spoon. ”You've got that beautiful hair and fair skin. Big green eyes to dive into. Great complexion, good figure, but seriously, your eyes are your biggest asset.”

”I don't know,” she said dubiously. ”I don't exactly look like twenty anymore.”

”Neither does Jay,” Amanda observed. ”Sarah Williams, you're a babe. I know it, Will knows it, and from what I saw of Jay, he knows it too. You got nothing to worry about. I'd crawl all over you myself if I swung that way.”

”So do I put on a dress? If you say the little black dress I will murder you with this spoon.” Sarah waved it threateningly, trying to direct attention away from the fact that her cheeks were on fire.

Amanda tilted her head. ”Nope. Jay likes you the way you are. He's already sniffing you out, you don't need to catch his attention. Good pair of jeans to show off your ass, some nice shirt or blouse. Don't let your hair out of that scrunchie. You're saving that for when you do want to knock his socks off.”

”So basically... do nothing?”

Amanda laid her spoon to rest in the empty soup bowl. ”Yeah, be Sarah Williams. It seems to be working pretty well so far, why change the formula?”

”Well, thanks, I guess.” Sarah sighed. ”I feel like I'm sixteen again. At least I'm not back in high school.”

 

* * *

Pete was waiting for her outside the library. Sharon contemplated running out the back door but then decided against it. He would just turn up at her house instead if she did. She could not count on that fox being around to save her still. Her father was not at home. Better to deal with him here in public. She managed to smile. ”Hello.”

”Took you long enough,” he observed. ”I don't know how you can spend so much time with your nose in a book.”

”I need to study,” she murmured. He put his arm around her shoulder as they began to walk.

”Nobody likes a fucking bookworm. What's with the hair?”

Sharon felt self-conscious. ”I just put it in a ponytail to keep it out of my face.”

He reached up and pulled the scrunchie out. A few hairs went with it. She tried to not let the pain show. ”Well, it looks stupid. I don't like it. We're doing Black Temple tonight.”

Sharon winced. ”I wasn't going to play tonight.”

”Well, where am I going to get a fucking healer if you don't?”

”You could ask --”

He shook his head and cut her short. ”Baby, no one else can heal like you do. You need to do this for me.”

”My father wants me to do laundry,” she said.

”Tell him to do his own fucking laundry. What are you, twelve?”

”You know I can't.”

Pete rolled his eyes. ”Fine. Be that way. It's not like I made sure to have time to hang out with you or anything. Fuck this. I got enough problems without you being a bitch.”

”Are you okay?”

”The fuck do you care.” His fingers dug into her shoulder.

”Please.” She hated how timid she sounded.

”My landlord fucked up my place,” he grumbled. ”The whole place smells like the city dump. I'm going to kill that asshole, I swear, he better get it fixed. It's gotta be the fucking pipes.”

”I'm sorry.”

”Yeah, well, he'll be sorry when I get my hands on his ass. I'm not paying rent for this month, not when my pad smells like somebody took a dump on the floor.”

Sharon tried to edge away, put a little distance between them, but his grip was like a vice. ”I'm really sorry, but I need to call Tobias tonight.”

”Fuck that. He's probably fucking Nicole right now.”

Sharon jerked back, alarmed. ”Why would you say something like that?”

Pete looked annoyed, then stuck his hands in his pockets. ”I guess you haven't heard them go on, on guild chat. Tobias seems to have a lot of chick friends.”

The snake of fear that lived in Sharon's stomach did saltos on her diaphragm. ”He's nice to me,” she muttered.

”All guys are nice when they want in your pants.” Pete's tone was condescending.

* * *

”I did not bite him on the posterior!” Sir Didymus said indignantly. The fox goblin was still encamped within the bougainvillea of Sharon's yard. He seemed to have made himself quite comfortable there as far as Sarah could tell. She was a little surprised that calling on him in her mirror still worked when he was arguably in the same dimension as herself. ”Lawks, my lady, there are things even I will not do for a damsel in distress! I bit his shin.”

Elmo giggled. ”I woulda.” He sat on her bed, watching. Almost every shirt Sarah owned was laid out around him. A few were laid out on top of him. Bikkit was sniffing around inside a yellow shirt with a sailing boats motif.

”But you're all right?” Sarah asked, weighing a red blouse consideringly in her hands.

”I am well, milady, and my sense of smell is keen!”

She looked at her brave knight again, letting the red blouse drop back on the bed. ”Is there anything I can get you? To get rid of the taste, I mean?”

Elmo mimed emptying an entire tube of toothpaste on his tongue. Maybe he had watched Mulan a few times too many. Sarah ignored it.

Sir Didymus tilted his head and stroked his greying whiskers. ”Actually, milady, if it is not too much trouble – I would not mind a cup of tea.”

Sarah burst into laughter at his serious expression. ”Oh, Didymus, of course. I'll send Elmo over with a thermos bottle immediately.”

”It's not fair,” Elmo moaned.

”And a cupcake for each of you,” she tempted him.

”... That's fair.”

She took a break from sartorial quandaries to put on the kettle. When she returned to the bedroom and its mirror, Bikkit had dragged the yellow shirt from the bed and was busy turning it into a nest behind her dresser. Sarah sighed, then decided to let the ferret keep her prize. Yellow was not her colour anyway. She held up the red blouse in one hand and a green one in the other. ”Elmo.”

”Blue.”

”Elmo, I'm choosing between red and green.”

”Blue.”

In the end she went with a dusty grey blouse that she hoped would provide a good backdrop for her green eyes.

 


	29. A Truly Magnificent Bastard

"Pish and Tosh, I need you," Sarah said. She had her coat on and a box of dog treats ready in one hand for when her two-headed, blue spirit guide appeared. He – they? – did within a matter of moments, causing Bikkit to startle and retreat into her new yellow nest where she promptly went to sleep.

"Do you need to go to the Underground, Sarah?" Pish asked. His tail wagged cheerfully.

She grinned at them and poured out treats on the floor. Tosh quickly set to eating. "Yeah, I do."

Pish tilted his head. "You're looking very nice."

Tosh bobbed his head, mouth full.

Sarah could feel her own blush. "A girl's got to make an impression."

"I like these bacon treats," Tosh said. "Are you ready to go?"

"No, but I won't get any more ready," she sighed. "Please help me find the Goblin King."

"Walk through the door," Pish suggested and nodded towards her bedroom door.

"We made it a little easier on you," Tosh agreed.

Sarah steeled herself for a hard landing and stepped through the door – only to find herself walking into a very beautiful study. The walls were covered in dark red brocade panelling. The ceiling was dark gold, and the floor covered in a dark red rug so deep it felt like she sunk into it to her ankles. A number of floral paintings in autumnal colours rested in heavy mahogany frames on the walls. Luxurious armchairs the colour of deep burgundy wine were arranged around a large fireplace that was the main source of illumination and heat alike. Mahogany bookcases lined one wall, and another sported a sizeable desk and chair.

Her two-headed spirit guide had chosen to stay behind. They probably wanted to finish the biscuits.

His glittery Majesty, the Goblin King, sprawled in one of those luxurious armchairs, one leg draped over the arm rest, a book in his lap. He was dressed in black and crimson, a combination of leather and velvet that seemed familiar from somewhere. It came to her after a moment – he had worn that set in the crazy stair room, during their initial contest over her brother. She had not paid him much attention at the time; getting to Toby had been a priority. Not falling off the crazy stairs had been another.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." Sarah pretended to knock on an invisible door. "Knock, knock."

"On the contrary," he replied without looking up.

Sarah felt momentarily self-conscious. "This room, did I imagine that?"

The King looked up at last, and shook his head. "This one is Toby's. He does not realize that, mind."

"I think I remember Toby saying something about never adding anything to the Underground, yeah."

"Toby tends to underestimate his own creativity."

"Yeah. I know. He always tells me I'm the family artist." She sat down in the armchair opposite his. "I was going to ask you about Tobes, actually. From what he was saying earlier today, there's a situation with his girlfriend."

"Tch. Hardly a 'situation'," the King scoffed. "An upstart spoiled child is in the way, that is all. I am dealing with it."

Sarah drew her feet up under herself. "How?"

He studied her with his strange, mismatched eyes. "Not so trusting today, are we?"

"Well. I've seen what the goblins can do. Wouldn't be so far fetched to assume that their king can do a lot worse, would it?"

The King smiled slightly. "It would not. Would you like to know what I am doing, then?"

Relief washed over her. Why was this so difficult? The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him, but trust did not come easy after so many years. "Yes, please. I'd like that."

He flicked his wrist gracefully. A crystal popped into existence on his palm and he spun it on a fingertip as if it had no weight at all. "This is Pete. The brat prince who contends Toby's claim."

The crystal left his fingers and floated towards her, light as a soap bubble. She caught it, fearing that it would burst apart in her hands. It turned out to be quite solid, if feather light. Caught inside was the image of a youth, some twenty years or so of age. He was not bad looking but he could use a hair cut, Sarah thought. He had a pierced eyebrow. "Looks pretty ordinary to me?"

"Oh yes. Very -ordinary-." He spat the last word with contempt. "Pete thinks the world of himself. Pete is smooth when he wants to be, but beneath that charming veneer, he is hostile and domineering. He is not in love with Sharon, he wants to own her."

She blinked. "You really dislike this kid."

The King shrugged. "We are fundamental opposites. I shape my world to please you. He shapes Sharon to please himself."

"Sharon is not a child," Sarah pointed out. "She's old enough to make her own decisions. It's not up to you, or me, or Toby, to try to make her life choices for her."

He laughed. "Have I ever made a decision for you, Sarah?"

"No. But you sure as hell tried to."

The King waggled a finger at her, amused. "No. No, I did not. I gave you what you wanted: A heroic fantasy. And at the end of it, a heroic victory. That is the difference between myself and men such as this Pete: He would not have let you win."

Sarah bristled. "-Let- me win?"

"I allowed the possibility. I set rules for our little game, and you won it. I respected that, did I not? Pete Thompson would not have."

"Ah. Right." She nodded and set the crystal down on the coffee table. It popped like the soap bubble it resembled. "So what are you actually doing?"

He lounged in his chair with a smile best described as predatory. "I have made a few... arrangements... to put this Pete off his game a bit. To make his true colours shine brighter, if you will. I am indeed not playing Sharon's game for her, but I am showing her his hand. As cards go, it's not a very good hand."

"What kind of arrangements?"

The King chuckled. "Do you remember the junk fields?"

She scowled at him. "As if I would ever forget."

"You wouldn't. You made them up, after all." He waved his slender fingers, causing another crystal to be. It took flight like the first, and came to a rest on her hand. She looked into it.

The view was a tad disorienting at first, as if the camera angle was maladjusted. She was looking down into somebody's very neat one-room apartment. The kitchen table was prominent in view, spread out under her eyes.

"You are looking through a light bulb in his table lamp," he informed her. "This is Pete's 'crib'. And the crystal that serves as a light currently also allows air to travel between there and the junk fields here."

Sarah looked up from the crystal. "Yikes. The place must stink."

"It's having a rather strong effect on poor Pete's sleep, indeed." He looked positively smug.

"You're stressing him out in order for him to slip up and show Sharon what his true nature is like," Sarah said admiringly. "You're truly a magnificent bastard, Jareth. Why not the Bog while you were at it?"

The King all but purred in satisfaction at her words. "Too strong, Sarah. He would have to vacate the place. I want him right there, getting more on edge by each passing hour. Making him stay with friends or family would not have the desired effect."

"Or even worse, he might stay with Sharon?"

He shook his head, pale mane dancing. "Her father would not allow that. Sir Didymus gave me a very vocal report on Sharon's residence. She is an only child. Her mother is dead, and her father is very assertive."

"Controlling father and jerk boyfriend. She sure has all the luck."

"Mortals often pick partners that remind them of their parents," he said patiently. "There is safety in knowing what to expect. In Sharon's case, I think she simply has not mastered the word 'no'. Perhaps no one taught her that she has the right to refuse."

Sarah shifted one leg out from under the other. "You feel sorry for her."

He tilted his head. "A little, yes. She is a gentle soul."

She had to admire the roguish gleam in eyes. Strange eyes, poofy hair, and glittery make-up aside, he was a damn good looking man, and not quite as one-dimensional as she had thought. "I hate to be the responsible adult but we probably ought to talk to her father about this."

"Out of the question," he said flatly. "Trust me on this one, Sarah."

"Just because you say so?"

"Because I am many times your elder and I know human nature very well, and because I say so, yes."

Sarah nodded. "Toby's still a kid, Jareth. So's Sharon. I was older than them when I married Rob and that didn't last. Even if you manage to remove this Pete from this equation, there's no guarantee this will be their happy ever after anyway."

He threw her a small smile that strolled casually through her defences. "But at least we'll have given them the chance."

She threw her hands up. "Okay. Okay, we do it your way. How do I help?"

The Goblin King actually looked surprised at that.

* * *

"He said what?" Nicole's expression of sheer disbelief would have been funny if the situation had not been so serious, Sharon thought. The girls sat on a bench in the backyard of Nicole's parents' house, coats up around their ears. Winter was approaching fast.

She looked at her hands. "He said... That you and Tobias were fucking."

"I'm going to kill him." Nicole rolled her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with that guy?"

"Please don't tell him I said anything," Sharon begged. "He'll get mad at me."

"He should be worrying about me getting mad at him," her friend growled. "He's got no right to go around saying things like that. Not about me, and not about Tobias, and not about anyone. Besides, you know he's just saying that shit so you'll get upset and insecure, and stay with him."

"I know," Sharon sighed. She did know.

"So stop taking it from him." She could tell Nicole was really angry. Her friend was fuming and swearing. "Stand up for yourself, Sharon. Stop bending over and taking it up the ass from this guy. He's shit. He's useless. Why do you keep seeing him?"

"He keeps turning up," she murmured defensively. "Like, after class or outside the library. He doesn't go into my yard any more, he's afraid of that fox."

"Good fox," Nicole agreed fervently. "Tell him to piss off, Sharon. Just like that. You don't owe him anything. You don't need to explain anything. Just tell him that you don't want to see him again, and if he keeps turning up, you're telling your old man."

If it was only that easy, Sharon thought. It really ought to be that easy. "What about the guild?"

Nicole blinked. "The guild? What do you mean, the guild?"

"Well, Pete's got a lot of friends there."

"Sharon. It's a game. You really think anyone's going to listen to Pete if he goes around trying to start drama in a game? Hey, at most, they're going to get a laugh out of it, everybody likes to gossip."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. I don't really talk to anyone else besides you and Tobias and Pete."

"You're right," Nicole said. "I don't understand. You should make new friends and get rid of Pete."

* * *

"You go in first," Krystyna instructed the ferret. She was the kind of goblin who took great care with her plotting and paid extreme amounts of attention to detail to get things just right. She actually knew how to write her own name and she had gone to the effort of replacing the mundane i's with y's to achieve a certain uniqueness that her artist soul craved.

She set Bikkit down on the meticulously clean floor and watched. The ferret did what any sane ferret would do: She ran for cover under the couch, and then, certain that nothing could leap on her from above, started sniffing around. She was shedding, Krystyna noted with satisfaction.

"This is stupid," Badger said, next to her. "Sarah's going to be mad if we lose the ferret."

"We're not going to lose the ferret," Krystyna replied confidently.

"And the King is going to be even more mad."

"We are not losing the Princess," Krystyna snapped.

Bikkit snooped around, flat on her belly, inspecting everything with her keen nose. It was not a very interesting floor. No one had left any socks to steal and there was not a trace of dust in the corners. Everything smelled like laundry detergent. She sprinted across the floor and scampered up into the bed. It smelled like laundry detergent too, and fabric softener. The ferret sat on her rump for a moment and scratched her ears.

"He's not going to notice a few hairs," Badger pointed out.

Krystyna frowned. He had a point. The goblin slipped across the floor to the kitchenette and opened a cupboard. "Here, Princess, here..."

Bikkit liked cupboards. They were dark and full of interesting things. She bounced across the room and into the dark opening that had just been provided.

Sounds of paper shredding ensued, and then the clinkety clink of chick peas being scattered everywhere.

"Did she just... go on the peas?" Badger looked impressed.

"Sarah taught her to use a litter box," Krystyna said with pride.

Her fellow goblin nodded. "He's not going to find that because of the smell though."

Krystyna made a face. "I know, right? It stinks in here already. But he'll see the mess."

"It's not enough."

She put her diminutive hands on her diminutive hips. "Well, why don't you do something useful, then!"

Badger shrugged and trotted over the cupboard. Then he started to undo his kilt.

"Get the Princess out first!" Krystyna shouted.

 


	30. Be Better Persons

There were questions Sarah Williams was not going to ask. She knew that even if she actually got the Goblin King to answer, she would not understand what he said. Magnolias and eggshells. Laws of physics that worked differently in different worlds. We do it this way because this is the way it is done. Well, if that's the way it is, then you must do it that way. She did not question the fact that her internal clock claimed that it was after midnight, yet the bright autumn sun outside the public library windows insisted on afternoon. Time moved differently in that other world. She rested her hand against a bookshelf for a moment, catching her figurative breath. The Goblin King might think nothing of stepping from one world to another, from night to day, but she did. Teleportation lag, was that even a thing? It was now. Her head was spinning.

A small group of students were making their way inside. The popular girl in front with her boyfriend, arms locked into each other's elbows. A number of other students following them, and trailing behind on the fringes of the group, Sharon the mouse. Nicole was not in sight. Well, that made things easier. She walked towards and past them, then paused and turned around. "Oh, Sharon! Hello!"

The shy girl turned around quickly, then brightened. "Sarah, hello!"

Sarah strolled up to her with all the casualness she hoped she was emitting. "I guess your school is somewhere around here, eh?"

Sharon nodded. Behind her, her classmates walked on, leaving her behind.

"Say, do you have time for coffee? I have an hour or so to kill."

"I really do have a lot of homework," Sharon began.

Sarah took a stranglehold on her good manners. A certain Goblin King didn't take no for an answer, and right now, neither would she. "I won't keep you long," she promised, in spite of knowing better. "Come on, let's do this. I'll tell you all my brother's embarrassing baby stories."

Sharon looked around for an excuse. Sarah quickly took her by the arm and all but dragged her towards the door. "You'll love this place I know. Quite exclusive, almost no one even knows it exists."

"But I was supposed to meet – "

Anastasia fell into stride. Sharon did not notice the goblin girl walking just behind them. Sarah did and mentally crossed her fingers that Sharon's first glitterpoof would go easy on her.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled at the girl. "Everything will be sorted out."

"But I – " Sharon faltered and then gave up. She meekly followed Sarah out through the library doors, out into the bright sunshine of the hedge maze of the Labyrinth. Tall hedges loomed in leafy silence. The sky had a distinct, sandy Mediterranean hue that definitely did not belong on their side of the globe.

That, at least, gave Sharon pause. The girl looked around with a crestfallen expression, then looked behind herself. No library doors there, not even a library building. Then, with a small apologetic sigh, she took a hold on Sarah's elbow and fainted.

"Crap," was all Sarah managed to muster as she tried to support Sharon's weight and ease her fall lest she bump her head or twist something. "I should have seen that coming."

Anastasia rushed up to take the girl's wrist and feel her pulse. "Oh no, Sarah. Will she be all right?"

"I think she's just overwhelmed," Sarah replied. She looked around. "This isn't where she expected to be."

The pig-faced goblin nodded. "I tried to make it easy, I really did."

"You did fine," Sarah reassured her. "Now it's up to the Goblin King."

* * *

Nicole wondered where Sharon was. She was supposed to turn up with the rest of their study group but she had not. Pete, however, arrived almost ten minutes late. That was not like him; he was usually rather anal retentive about being on time, and prone to getting surprisingly angry if others did not keep their appointments. She was not surprised that he headed straight for her.

"Where is Sharon?" he demanded.

"Hi Pete," Nicole said blithely.

"Where is she?" He was not in a good mood.

Neither was she. "Pete, you smell."

"What?" If this had been one of those Japanese cartoons she would have been able to see the cross-hair twitch at his temple, she thought. "Where is Sharon? She was supposed to be here."

"Pete, you smell like you slept in a dumpster. Go home and shower." She was actually enjoying this.

"She's right, you know." That was Mary, from biology class. "Did you step in something?"

"Fuck, somebody open a window," Marc, also from biology, agreed. "Pete made out with a wino."

She could hear his jaw clench. The look in his eyes was not at all comforting. If they had been alone he'd have hit her, Nicole realized. An icy finger of fear trailed down her spine before she dismissed it. She was not alone, and she was not going to let this unwashed excuse for a human being intimidate her. "Piss off, Pete," she shrugged. "You smell like you did already."

She had pushed too far. He raised his hand.

Marc stood up and walked over to stand behind Nicole. He was a tall guy, looming over them both. Mary followed him, and several other students were staring openly at the exchange.

With a frustrated, "Fuck you all to hell!", Pete turned and bailed, leaving almost at a run, door slamming angrily behind him.

Nicole breathed out. "Thanks, guys."

"What the hell is his problem?" Mary asked. "Was he seriously going to hit you?"

"What a dick," Marc agreed. "I don't know what Sharon sees in him, I really don't."

"She doesn't," Nicole told him. "You just saw him try to hit me, imagine how he treats her."

"Well, I'm going to report this to the dean," Marc said. "Then Pete can come talk to me about it if he feels like going cave man on somebody again."

* * *

Sharon groaned, then slowly opened her eyes. Then she opened them wide. She was half sitting, half lying in Sarah's lap and Jay was leaning in over her. Except he was not Jay, the artist or designer or whatever. His russet leather jacket had an actual shoulder plate made from a metal in matching rusty colours. He was wearing yoga pants or tights, flamboyantly. His hairdo – her mind couldn't really come up with a word for it. It was a mullet with delusions of grandeur. He was wearing make-up, lots of it. His smile at her displayed sharp canines.

"Welcome to my garden, Sharon," he said. "I trust you did not hit your head?"

She looked up at him, then tried to shuffle off Sarah's lap. "I'm not... I'm not sure."

"You didn't," Sarah supplied. "But if it helps, I felt much the same way the first time this happened to me."

Sharon sat up and looked around herself. Her eyes went the size of saucers again. Before she could faint a second time, however, Jay placed a leather-clad finger under her jaw and tilted her head to look up on him. He had funny eyes, one was much darker than the other. "Look at me, Sharon. This is real."

She blinked owlishly. His gaze was mesmerizing. "How?"

Jay of the strange eyes straightened up. She scrambled to her feet like his finger under her chin pulled her up.

Sarah did as well. "Did you read the book my brother gave you? The little red one?"

Sharon looked back at her. "Why?"

Sarah half-smiled. "Because now you're in it, I guess."

"That's impossible."

"Don't take things for granted, girl," Jay said with a haughtiness he had not shown back when she first met him, at the little park. "Perhaps this will help you see more clearly." He made a gesturing motion as if beckoning somebody to come closer.

The leaves of the nearest hedge rustled. Her fox appeared.

Except it was not her fox. It was a fox-like creature, dressed in some kind of strange mix of clothing and armour, and wearing an eyepatch. It even had a sword.

It dashed up to her and knelt. "My lady!"

Sharon drew backwards a little before she realized that backing up further would mean stepping on Jay's feet.

The fox tilted his head and looked at her with the most imploring look an animal could possibly have, even a talking one. "My lady! My liege means you no harm! We would protect you with our very lives! I can smell danger from miles away, my sense of smell is keen!"

"Thank you, Sir Didymus," Jay said with a smile that was half amused, half mocking.

Sarah walked up to her and laid her hand on her arm. "It's not an illusion, Sharon. It's all real. I know how you feel. It was much the same to me, except that the first thing I saw was a dwarf shooting fairies with pesticide." She paused. "Then I met a blue, talking worm, and then I just sort of... rolled with it, I guess."

She really did want to sit back down. "What is this place?"

"It is my kingdom," Jay said, offering a small, but condescending bow.

Sarah shot him a look that Sharon could not quite interpret. There was history between the two of them, that much she could tell. She looked down back at the fox. "Are you really my fox?"

It – he – bowed, sweeping the gravel path with the feather on his hat, and then with his tail. "Sir Didymus at your service, my lady. I was sent to keep thee safe and sound from injury by that gate climbing scoundrel, yon pitiful, miserable existence, the lily-livered cretin, that sad and sorry excuse for -"

"He means Pete," Sarah inserted helpfully. "Sir Dee takes his job very seriously."

"- a human being, that craven, bat-fouling lout, yon droning, fool-born pumpion – "

"Thank you, Sir Didymus," Jay said again, sharper this time. The fox actually fell quiet though to guess from the twitching of his whiskers he kept on muttering insults in his head.

Finally, her self-preservation instinct kicked in. "Where are we?"

Sarah smiled at her. "Don't be afraid. No one is going to hurt you here. I promise." She kept her eyes on Jay as she spoke the last words.

"This is my kingdom," Jay repeated and made a sweeping, imperious gesture. "You have read the book. You know where we are. You know who I am."

A line from that little red book crept into her memory uninvited. She blinked at him. "You're in love with me?"

The look on his face was priceless. He actually stared. "What?"

Sarah laughed out loud, then managed to get a grip on herself. "'But what no one knew was that the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl'," she quoted, between attempts to breathe.

He scoffed. "Of course not. It's just a story, designed to draw the eye and mind of a child. You are here to see."

"See what?" She really did not like his tone, she decided. Sarah did not seem to be afraid of him and his weird eyes, but she was. She had enough controlling, condescending men in her life.

"To see that nothing really is what it seems to be," Sarah said gently. "Not here, and not in our own world. Even when it feels like there are no ways out, no openings at all, they're still there. You just need to look in the right way to see them. A little blue worm told me that, and he wasn't wrong."

She felt a fox paw – hand? – in her own. "Lady Sarah speaks the truth, milady."

"I don't understand." She really didn't.

"You will," Jay promised. He raised his hand, palm up. An over-sized soap bubble appeared on it and floated towards her.

When it collided with her nose the world fell down. Again.

So that's what it looks like, Sarah thought as she watched Sharon fade away, a baffled expression lingering on her face, like a flabbergasted Cheshire cat. She turned and looked at the Goblin King. "Are you sure this is going to work? Because if it isn't, I'm going to have a hard time explaining this to her and Toby later."

He smirked. "She will think it was a dream, Sarah. Have a little faith in me."

Sir Didymus opened his mouth, then shut it. After a moment he said, "I will go and make certain the lout stays away from the lady's dwelling!" and loped off. His tact was greater than his sense of smell was keen.

The Goblin King put his hands on his hips. "Really, Sarah."

She walked up to him. "I do have faith in you. It's just – we want this girl to say 'no' to this Pete specimen, but we did not respect her 'no' either. Or I guess, I didn't."

"And you think she would have come willingly if you had told her where you were going?"

"No, I don't. I know I did the right thing, but I still don't think it was right."

He tilted his head and looked straight at her. "Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind, Sarah."

She nodded. "I know. But all the same, this is the first and only time we do this. I want us to be clear on that. Because otherwise we're no better than the rest of the people who make her life hell."

The Goblin King laughed. "I never claimed to be."

She jabbed the front of his leather jacket. "Stop being a smartass."

He took a step backwards, then made a flourishing bow. "As my lady wishes. Being a better person than Pete Thompson will not require much effort." He winked at her.

Sarah burst into laughter again. "You're right, it won't. So let's do that, eh? Today's schedule: Be better persons than Pete Thompson."

 


	31. He Was a Crappy Tank Anyway

“I'm home,” Toby called as he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. No one was at home to hear, at least no one who had the Williams surname. One never could tell how many goblins were around. They were really good at staying out of sight of his parents.

“How convenient,” the Goblin King's voice said from inside his room. “My timing remains impeccable.”

He sprawled on the bed in all his grey tights with a subtle snake skin print glory, looking at a magazine. He dropped it on the floor at the youth's arrival.

“Hello, Jareth,” Toby grinned and threw his tote bag into a corner. He sat down on his desk chair. “What's up?”

“The ceiling,” his friend replied blithely and steepled his fingers. “You and I need to talk.”

“Okay. What's going on? Does this have anything to do with Sharon?”

“As a matter of fact it does. How well do you know this Pete Thompson character?”

Toby grinned. “Why, are you going to dump him somewhere dark and unpleasant?”

The Goblin King snorted. “Tch. Unfortunately, your sister's conscience places some restrictions upon me in that regard. Tell me about him.”

Toby shrugged. “What's to say? Girls think he's good looking. Most people like him, he's smart and laid back. I don't like him.”

“Did you realize that there's a fancy modern word for men like him?”

“Asshole? Psycho? Jerk? Wanker? Douchebag?”

The Goblin King smirked. “Close. The term is sociopath. A classification for people who appear to be charming and charismatic while in fact, they are covertly hostile and domineering. They see other people only as instruments to be played. They feel that they are entitled to do this because they are superior to others.”

Toby turned his chair around so that he could lean his elbows on the backrest. “And you think that's Pete? I'm not disagreeing, I loathe the guy.”

“People like Pete have no problems lying coolly and easily. In fact, our Pete is so good at lying that he's convinced even himself that you are having an intimate relationship with this Nicole girl.”

“He what?” Toby stared.

“Pay attention.” Jareth conjured a crystal ball into existence and toyed with it, passing it from one hand to the other. “Pete is a very angry man. He does not see others around him as people. They are targets or opportunities, sometimes both. He will let nothing stand in his way to get what he wants, which currently happens to be Sharon. He will never feel remorse, shame, or guilt about what he does to keep her in his power.”

Toby bristled but managed to stay quiet.

“Pete is not capable of empathy. He feels only contempt for Sharon's weakness, and he feels entitled to take advantage of it. The strong prey on the weak, he would say.”

“I keep telling her that,” Toby nodded with vigour. “I keep telling her that he's using her.”

“He rages at her, and as you may have observed, he sometimes hits her. He alternates this with small expressions of love and approval. In doing so, he has put Sharon in a situation where she feels there is no hope. She has been conditioned by him to believe that he sees and knows everything she does. He is entitled to every demand he makes. She cannot say no to him because he will not take no for an answer. She knows she will not like what happens if she tries. Tell me, does Pete have a history of being a troublemaker even as a child?”

“Uh. I don't know,” Toby admitted. “Didn't meet him until college.”

Jareth nodded. “Let's assume that he does. Most sociopaths have a history of behaviour problems that starts very young. Again, because they have no empathy and cannot at all picture the situation from the viewpoint of the victim. Pete is never going to care whether he wrecks Sharon's life, Toby. He's either oblivious or indifferent. If she is miserable, it will be her own fault, never his.”

“Remind me again why I can't ask Didymus to gut him with a sword?”

“Conscience,” the Goblin King said drily. “Specifically, your sister's.”

“All right. Go on. I'm listening. Please tell me this has an ending I'll like.”

“Oh, you will, I promise.” he smiled. “How many close friends does Pete have?”

“Uh.” Toby thought. “Don't know. I don't know that he hangs out with anyone but Sharon, really. I mean, not like, more than we all hang out.”

“Men like Pete do not want people to get too close. They are contemptuous of those who try to understand them. He certainly does not think there is anything wrong with him. He's authoritarian, secretive, and frankly, paranoid. What he wants from Sharon is a woman who will let him control every aspect of her life. He does need that, you see. He has an emotional need to justify his behaviour and needs her to be there to show him respect, love, and gratitude for allowing her to be in his life.”

“Fear me, love me, and I'll be your slave?” It seemed a little too familiar.

The Goblin King shot him a dark look. “More like, Fear me, love me, and you'll be my slave, thank you very much. Pete plays on the fact that most people are trusting and forgiving. Your little circle of friends tolerate him because he is glib and charming and if he gets a little assertive at times, well, nobody's perfect. The warning signs are there, but it is difficult to see them. Once you trust someone, friendship can be blind.”

Toby shook his head again. “I just don't get it. Why did she get together with that jerk in the first place?”

“Because he is charming and sweet, and knows just what to say to make her feel better. She came to depend upon him for kindness. Her father's not worth much in that regard.” He threw the crystal ball high up into the air with one hand and caught it with the other. “Mind you, Pete does not plan to keep her. He intends to graduate and move away, and when he does, he wants to leave Sharon behind broken-hearted. A final blow to her already substantial lack of self-worth.”

“How do you know that?”

The Goblin King smiled. “Am I not the master of dreams, Toby? Pete's mental landscape is simply not as – pleasant – as your sister's.”

Toby nodded. Couldn't argue with that. “So what is it you want me to do? Because I want to take the pickup and run him over a few times.”

“Things are in motion. You know that.”

“That's easy for you to say. It's not your girlfriend who's being held emotionally hostage by a soul vampire.”

“But it's her boyfriend who just happens to have access to magic. I have set the ball rolling, Toby. Now you need to be there to catch her when she falls.”

Toby nodded. “Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

Jareth fixed his gaze on the youth. “Believe in Sharon. Be there.”

* * *

“I like happy endings,” Anastasia said. The pig-faced girl goblin sat on one of the Labyrinth's many small sandstone walls, swinging her legs. “I want a happy ending.”

Cuchullain shrugged his disinterest and watched the birds in the skies overhead. A common garbler flew down to sit on a fence post, too close for the goblin's liking; also known as the Somewhat Bedraggled Brown Bird of Apathy, its presence made him uncomfortable. Garblers were known to seek out people suffering from failure, incompetence, and broken dreams.

“Got any ideas?” Octavius looked at her curiously. He had a bit of a crush on the lady goblin. To be fair, there weren't a lot of lady goblins so most of the boys crushed on her, Sheacker, or Krystyna. In some cases, on all three of them.

Anastasia bobbed her head. “King's being all subtle about things.” She said the word 'subtle' as if what she really meant was 'stupid'.

“He's usually right, though.” Credit where credit was due, Octavius felt.

The girl goblin shrugged. “We're goblins. We're not supposed to be subtle.”

“So what's on your mind, pretty? Got a really nasty idea?”

Anatastia tugged at a blond lock of hair that was falling into her face and eyed the bird speculatively. “Yeah...”

Octavius let his gaze follow hers. Then a slow grin spread over his face, like a rotten apple splitting up the middle.

Cuchullain looked from one to other. “Oh, that bloody figures. You bloody love birds are going to make me catch it, I bet.”

“That's easy,” Anastasia promised him with a wicked little smile. “Just jump at him and miss, he'll follow you home.”

 

* * *

If you left the night elf capital of Darnassus and took a portal, right by the hippogriffs, you found yourself in the small fishing village of Lor'danel. It was a quiet place where players popped out of the portal and hopped on birds at the village's flight point. No one stayed there. The game's virtual characters were quiet and non-intrusive. Sharon liked to spend time there, just sitting and watching the sun set over the ocean beyond the world tree when the guild was not raiding and no one was in the mood to go gather provisions for the next raid. Anyone walking past on a fantasy alter ego of their own at the time would see a night elf and a gnome looking at the water, completely silent. They were not, however. The game's chat function allowed Sharon and Nicole, elf and gnome respectively, to speak privately to each other without anyone else being able to eavesdrop.

“I had the strangest dream yesterday,” Sharon said in party chat. “I fell asleep on my bed.”

“We wondered where you were,” Nicole replied. “Pete made an ass out of himself in the library.”

There was a small pause before Sharon typed again. “I dreamed about doors. Something about how you think you're trapped but you're just not looking in the right way and that's why you're not seeing the doors.”

“He got reported to the dean for nearly hitting me.”

“It was weird. Toby's sister was in my dream, talking about doors and blue worms.”

“Sharon.”

“And there was a fox. It wasn't really a fox, but it was my fox from my yard, you know?”

“Sharon, Pete nearly hit me.”

Sharon felt silent. Her character bounced on its feet. A silly animation, Nicole thought, and not one that her player could control. It just happened every so often when the character stood idle from the game's point of view.

After a while Sharon said simply, “I'm sorry.”

Nicole made her character nod. “You need to break up with that guy, Shar. I'm not joking. He's bad. He's hurting you. And it's not fair to Tobias.”

Sharon in turn made her character sigh loudly. “I'll try.”

“There is no trying, there is only doing.” Nicole's inner geek reared its head.

“You don't understand what he's like.”

“Yeah,” Nicole wrote. “I understand all right. He's a fucking loon. Don't give me that shit about how he's nice to you when you're alone and he was there when you needed him. Being nice to somebody doesn't mean you own them.”

“Maybe that's what the dream was about,” Sharon replied. “Because I do feel like I'm locked in a room and there are no ways out. Maybe I'm just not seeing them.” There was a brief moment of keyboard silence, then she added, “I'll try to make him understand that we're not together. That we're not going to be together. There is no Pete and me.”

“Now's a good time,” Nicole said and though text failed notoriously to carry tone, it was not unreasonable to say that she did so darkly. The game informed players when friends and guild mates logged in, and Pete's game character Bullfrogz had just come online.

He greeted everyone with his usual “Yo, whassup m8s?” on guild chat. A handful of people replied their yos and hellos and o/'s. Neither of the girls responded.

“Who wants to go do Gruul's Lair with me?” The invitation went out to all members of the guild. “Leggylas will heal, who else?”

Something snapped in Sharon's soul. “No,” she typed. “I'm busy, sorry.”

“Don't play hard to get, sweetie.” He finished the sentence with a smiley.

“I need to study, sorry.”

A couple of other people voiced their interest in joining the raid. “C'mon, Leggy,” Pete pleaded. “You're letting us all down here.”

“Leave her alone,” Tizelath wrote. That was Mary from college, on her night elf priest. She was an officer of the guild.

“Mind your own business,” Pete wrote back.

“How about I don't?” Mary retorted. “How about I tell everyone here that you were going to punch Shinesprocket's player in the face in real life this afternoon, you dick?”

Guild chat fell silent for a minute. Then someone said, “Is this supposed to be funny? Because I don't think it's funny.”

“It's just Tizelath's time of month,” Pete joked.

“Fuck you, Pete,” Mary responded. “You hit Leggylas. You were going to hit Shinesprocket. This guild doesn't need assholes like you. Goodbye.”

Pete did not have time to get a response in before the game notified all guild members that Bullfrogz, alter ego of Pete, had been removed from the guild.

“About time,” Someone said.

“Yeah, really, what a dick,” another guild member agreed. “He was a crappy tank anyway.”

So strange, Nicole thought. Pete never showed others what he was like. Just her. Something must have happened, to make him lose control of his projected persona like that.

 


	32. Say Your Right Words

The tropical sky was a deep shade of blue touched by the rosy fingers of the sunset, like thunder, forewarning of rains to come. The air was sweet, perfumed by scent of colourful flowers Sarah could not name, and the coconut palms waved their emerald fronds heavily on the evening breeze. Birds and monkeys called out to each other in the forest below, providing an almost musical backdrop. The air smelled like sea alt and strange spices and the deep blue open, and she had just stepped out of the shower and put on a shirt and a pair of track pants and definitely was not expecting this at all.

Hair dripping, she looked around. "Jareth!"

An amused chuckle made her turn around. A small round table sat on the balcony – they were on a balcony – with two chairs. A white tablecloth sported plates and crystal glasses and little candles in little crystal candleholders that looked like crystal balls. A small crystal pot held a pleasing display of little purple flowers in the same shade as the evening sky. The Goblin King, dressed in what could best be described as a white tuxedo with a light purple bouttoniere, lounged in one of the chairs. The streaks of colour in his hair matched the flowers and he looked very pleased with himself. "Hello, love."

Sarah threw her hairbrush at him. Not hard, though, and he caught it one hand with ease. "One minute earlier and you'd have caught me butt naked!"

"What a pity," he teased. "I must work on my timing."

"I thought we talked about this. You can't just lift me out of the world whenever you feel like it!"

He grinned like a cat with a face full of cream. "Oh, but I can if you wish it, dear."

"Well, I didn't."

"But you did. You were in the shower thinking about being at a tropical resort, with me. Though I do think the prominent part of the fantasy was about -"

Sarah flushed crimson. "Yes, thank you, that's enough."

He gestured at the table and the amazing view out over the woods. "And does my creation meet expectations?"

I'm never going to day dream again, she thought. And then, I'll never be bored again. She nodded haughtily. "It'll do, for such short notice. Honestly, Jareth, ask me first."

The Goblin King stood and with the airs of a gentleman, pulled out the chair for her. Sarah glanced down at her track pants and t-shirt and snickered. "I'm not quite dressed the part for this."

"That could be arranged," he replied airily.

She sat. "It's okay. Kind of fits our theme. You do the fancy costumes, I plod along in sneakers. Are we celebrating something?"

He sat opposite her and smiled. "I can think of a few things that might deserve celebrations. Our little scheme is going according to plan. Toby has not done anything hot-headed and stupid to mess it up yet. And on a more personal level, I find it quite delightful that you are learning to put a little confidence in me."

"Good enough for me," Sarah agreed. "Is that a white wine?"

"It is if you want it to be."

"Now that's just cheating."

"You say that often." The King smirked and uncorked the wine bottle with a practised hand before pouring for them both.

"Yes, and my basis of comparison is other men," Sarah quipped back, then took pity. "Fortunately for you, the comparison is in your favour."

"But of course," the Goblin King replied airily. He looked rather pleased all the same.

"Here's to schemes, not messing them up, and confidence," Sarah suggested and raised her wine glass to clink it lightly against his. Probably not ballroom manners but she cared little. She was wearing track pants. "And here's to growing up and moving on with your life."

The Goblin King's light-and-dark gaze fixated on her sharply, pinning her words to the air between them.

Sarah faltered. "That's not what I meant. Moving on as, well. Letting bygones be bygones. You know. Getting on with it. Getting to know each other."

"Ah." He nodded. "And to think, I was half expecting you to flip the table in my face and jump off the balcony."

She offered him a reassuring smile. "I'm not fourteen any more. And you didn't drug me."

"Well, drink your wine, then." He said it with a completely straight face.

For a second Sarah tensed – then burst into laughter. "My god, I was such a brat."

"Yes. Yes, you were."

"And you were such a dick."

Jareth waved his hand dismissively at her. "I was entirely reasonable, very patient, and very generous."

She looked at him with interest before sipping the wine. It was in fact a very lovely, sweet white wine with a hint of bubbles. "What fascinates me is that you genuinely do believe it. You really do think I wanted to get chased by cleaners. Groped by talking hands. Tossed into a smelly bog. Fight the goblin army."

He tilted his head and looked at her, tasting his wine too before replying. "You wanted to be challenged. To overcome and be the plucky heroine who saved the day for everybody but the wicked Goblin King. Have we not had this discussion?"

"Myes," Sarah acknowledged. "But things have changed a little since then. I guess I want different things now. And I'm still trying to figure out if you and I have the same general idea of where we go from here."

A crooked smile played on his thin lips. "Well, why don't you tell me, in your own words, what you wish for, Sarah? Don't disappoint me."

She leaned back on her chair a little. A flock of seagulls sped by overhead, silvery outlines against the darkening purple sky. "No. This time you tell me."

"What I want? I've told you what I want."

"Yes, yes." She only realized she was mirroring his little dismissive hand wave as she made it. "You want to keep the fantasy alive a little longer. It's a nice little world. You want to maintain it a while before you eventually have to move on and find someone else's imagination to recreate. Yes, you've told me that. But you have not told me what you actually want. Or how you want it, I suppose." She paused to sip her wine again.

A slow smirk spread over the Goblin King's lips. "I see."

"Well, tell me, then."

"Ask your right questions."

"Jareth, stop turning everything into a game."

He shook his head lightly and the purple streaks in his mane glittered softly like tiny stars. "This is not a game. Words shape my world. Say your right words."

Sarah took a deep breath. "Am I ever going to be real to you?"

He put his glass down and looked directly at her with not a hint of sardonic wit or amusement. "You are real to me. You are as real to me as any human can be. You fear that I will tire of you and walk away when another enticing dream crosses my path. I exist on the fringes of reality. I need you. Without dreamers, I am nothing. Every time I must start over with just a spark, a flutter of a thought." He paused, then said, "If I could convey how hard it is, to create worlds only to see them fall to dust over time..."

Sarah reached out across the table and laid her hand over his, white glove soft under her fingers. "You're alone. Even with the goblins, you are alone."

He nodded slightly. "And I will be again."

She kept her hand over his, twining her fingers in between his. "I don't want to fear or obey, Jareth, and I don't want a slave. This is not a fantasy. It's not a game. As my little brother might say, shit's getting real."

He said nothing.

This was it. One of those defining moments in the story where the heroine steps into character, where she realizes what she is and where she is going, and how to get there. A turning point. A big decision moment. Complete with wide angle camera and slow motion zooming in on her face. And on his. All that was missing was a suitably dramatic orchestral score. The Goblin King could probably provide one on request, Sarah mused, then scolded herself for her mind's attempt to wander away from the very important moment at hand. Coward brain.

Get up and walk out, live a normal life. Or spend the rest of your life living by fairytale rules.

"Well." Sarah tried to sound casual though her heart was doing the lambada. "I want to keep living in my own place. I'm not moving into your castle. Too many chickens."

She could almost feel the little 'click' of reality and fantasy merging and falling into new forever positions around each other. The Goblin King threw his head back and laughed, a hearty, genuine, and victorious laughter.

* * *

"This is stupid," Badger said. The goblin was trying to groom his bushy black and white mane with a small pink plastic comb that no one knew where he had liberated. "It's boring, too."

Cuchullain shrugged and swung his little legs. He sat on the picket fence, high up enough that he could look into Pete Thompson's small apartment, confident that any mortal looking their way would just see two cats sunning themselves, a tuxedo and a mackerel. "It's working, though."

Below the two goblins, from inside the bougainvillea, Sir Didymus nodded his agreement. "Forsooth, if the purpose is to rile up the rapscallion, 'tis having the intended effect."

The object of their observations was not the youth on the other side of the window. He was not even remotely interesting from a goblin point of view. All he did was threaten and pace and posture, and their king was better at all three. Pete Thompson was a weak copycat as far as Badger and Cuchullain was concerned.

No, it was the bird on the window sill that amused the two. The drab Somewhat Bedraggled Brown Bird of Apathy pecked the window every time Pete swore. Right now he was calling his landlord for the nineteenth time in two days, to complain about the absolutely infernal reek, be it gas or sewer leak, that permeated his home, not to mention the giant rat turds that kept appearing in his kitchen cupboards. He would notice the bird tapping on the glass and giving him its saddest, most hope deprived look. He'd then storm over to the window to chase it off. As soon as he turned his back, the bird returned.

"It's like a tennis match," Cuchullain said.

"One where the featherball is winning," Badger agreed.

"One does wonder at the purpose," Sir Didymus commented. "Yon young scoundrel earns many names, none of them flattering, but apathetic is not yet one?"

Badger shrugged. "He'll get there."

"Prithee, enlighten me," the fox goblin inquired and shifted his position in his bush.

Cuchullain stretched out like the lazy mackerel tom cat passing mortals saw him as. "Garbler feeds on frustration and broken dreams. Petey boy there's a twelve course gourmet dinner right now, and he ain't going to get any less yummy the longer the more it annoys him."

"Ah. A war of attrition, then. A most cunning strategy," Sir Didymus agreed. "Truly, our liege may be brash but he is cunning."

The two fence sitters exchanged looks. "Yeah. Eh. King's smart enough," Badger said at length. It was not the Goblin King's idea to introduce the bird to the game, but hey, if he had thought of it, it probably would have been. Practically a royal decree to get that bird if you looked things from a certain, very goblin point of view. Didymus wouldn't understand, though.

 


	33. Definitely Exclusive

Sarah was humming to herself as she laid the cottage elf prints out on Will's desk for perusal. She arranged them neatly, side by side, in the order that the reader would encounter them, paging through the finished book. Will watched and looked closer at some of the detail work with admiration. "What's that that elf is holding? The TV remote?"

Sarah nodded, smiling. "The elves discover Cartoon Network and they love it. Magic comes out of wands, cartoons come out of remotes."

Her editor gave her a questioning look. "I don't remember that part in the book."

She laughed. "It's not in there. Well, discovering cartoons is in there, but I made the remote part up. It's my headcanon. You wave a wand, magic happens. You wave a remote, TV happens."

Will chuckled. "That may be too subtle for the intended audience but why not? Do you think you can whip up some vignettes to go with the full-page illustrations? I'm thinking small line art pieces to fill out any white space between chapters and the like. Character portraits, they don't have to tie in with the narrative much."

"I can do anything as long as you pay me," Sarah said. "Paaaay me."

Will looked at her again. "You're in a flippant mood today. Did you win the Lotto?"

"Would I ask you to pay me if I did?"

"Probably. Ten vignettes, a week?"

"I can do that, sure." Sarah smiled again and waved her hand. "I'll just magic them up."

"Flippant," Will repeated, then rested his chin in his hands, elbows on his desk. "Good date?"

"A week is fine."

He chuckled. "Yes, you said. I meant, did you have a good date?"

Sarah blinked and felt warmth creep into her cheeks. "Maaaybe."

"Lucky bastard, whoever he is," Will nodded. "Buy him a cold one from me. If your date was as bizarre as ours, buy him two."

She laughed. "I may have to buy him a brewery. Bizarre follows me around, you know."

"Believe me, I noticed. I'm happy for you, Sarah." There was a little something in his gaze. Regret, perhaps, that he had let her slip him by.

"Thank you, Will," she replied. "I really do appreciate it."

Her editor turned his gaze to the prints. "Right. So. Ten vignettes."

She managed to keep her grin on the inside as she left his office. Barely. She could not quite hide the spring in her step and the flush on her face as she almost knocked Amanda over outside. The editor took one long look at her and repeated Will's question. "Good date?"

Sarah beamed. Amanda took that as a yes and dumped her pile of papers on a convenient book case. She put her hands at her hips. "Spill."

"Here?" People came and went in the hallway all the time. The copier was in one end, the water cooler in the other.

"Fine." Amanda grabbed her papers with one hand and Sarah's sleeve with the other. "My office. Sit. Talk. It's been ages since I saw you glow like that. Did you go somewhere nice?"

Sarah allowed herself to be pushed into the chair opposite Amanda's desk. "You wouldn't believe it. This little place with an ocean view and tropical birds singing. So pretty. We had it entirely to ourselves."

Amanda rested her chin on her hand, sitting opposite. "Was it Jay? I knew it. He's a dick but there's so much electricity between you two that you could power the state of Maine and have some left to spare."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah. And yeah, I know. He's kind of... he's got a big opinion of himself. Sometimes he makes me want to kick him in the teeth. But... I don't know how to explain it, really."

Her friend gave her a dark look. "I swear, Sarah girl, if you say you can change him, I'm going to make you eat this desk. I'm not joking."

Sarah laughed. "Hell no. I made that mistake once. Nope, not happening. Jareth's an ass sometimes and I'm... I'm okay with it, I guess. Besides, we're not talking marriage and picket fence here. We're just seeing each other."

"Exclusively?"

She blushed slightly. "Well, yeah, definitely exclusive. Sorry, Will."

Amanda shrugged. "Will can worry about his ex-wife and then he'll meet someone else. I'm happy for you, Sarah. Just don't let him run you ragged, all right? That guy's got an ego. You're gonna have to draw some lines."

"I know," Sarah smiled. "In some way, I feel like that's what I've been doing all this time. Drawing lines. Negotiating. Oh, and in case we split up I keep custody of Bikkit."

Amanda laughed. "Just keep it away from my squirrel, all right?"

* * *

It took Toby some effort to convince Sharon to meet with him at the little park, and more so, alone. She was as prude as a Disney princess he groused as he walked the gravel path. Then he corrected himself. As timid as someone who's never been good enough. He had not met Sharon's father but, from what Jareth had said, the girl meeting with a boy friend was not something that would go over well. He shook his head. The year was 2008. Bit late to lock up damsels in tall towers.

She had agreed in the end, however, and he saw her now, sitting alone on the little bench by the swan pond, huddling in her coat. The wind kissed cheeks with frost today and she looked so very small. If only she knew, Toby thought. He wanted to be with her forever. Have children with her. Grow old with her. Or maybe it wouldn't last and they'd part as friends some day and go their separate ways – but he wanted her to be happy. That was the important thing. It was not about him. It was about her.

Nothing is as it seems, Toby recalled Jareth saying, many times. Know what you want. Everything else is just illusion and false alarms, push it aside and do not let yourself get distracted. He knew what he wanted, and he sent his mentor a grateful thought as he walked up. "Hey there."

Sharon looked up from her cell phone and her face lit up in a smile that banished his fears and doubts. "Tobias!"

He plonked himself down on the bench next to her. "I worried you'd not come," he admitted.

She hesitated for just a blink of an eye, telling him that she had considered staying away. "I wanted to see you too. It's... not the same... in the game."

He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she settled against him. "Well, I'm not actually an eight foot blue elf with a long green beard..."

Sharon giggled. "That's not what I meant."

He kissed the top of her head. "Oh?"

"Some things you just can't... talk about. In writing, I mean. It's just..."

"Yeah," Toby agreed. "Flat. It's flat."

She chewed her lip. "Toby, what's going on? With us? And everything?"

He looked down at her hair, then out at the swan pond, its residents gone for the winter. Most of the trees had lost their flame-coloured foliage. "What do you mean?"

"What's going to happen to us?"

"Well, I have this idea that we'll both finish college and then we'll start looking for some decent place to live, and at some point, we're going to decide to maybe have a kid or two, and at some point, we're going to have to move somewhere with more space and I'm going to have to sell the truck and get a proper car so we can take the kids to soccer practise, and -"

"Tobias!" She giggled and swatted him. "That's not what I mean. I need to know about the goblins."

Now it was his turn to hesitate. Sharon looked up at him, eyes burning. "I keep seeing that fox, Tobias. And there are others... they look like cats but not exactly. When I see them out of the corner of an eye they don't look like cats at all. And I remember dreaming about your sister and her boyfriend except he's... he's not really human." Her lip shivered. "Am I going crazy, Tobias?"

He breathed out, then shook his head. "If you're crazy, then I've been crazy for a long time."

She let go of a big breath too, a giant sigh of relief. "Please tell me, Toby. Please tell me everything."

He laughed softly. "I can't. I mean, it's not that I don't want to, but it's a really long story and I don't even know half of it myself. It's like... there's a place next to this one. A kind of parallel world, I guess we can call it that. That's where all the... beings come from. It's all been part of my life since I was knee high. Things from that other world coming and going, no one else being able to see them and such. Sarah's the connection."

"And Jay loves her?" Her eyes shone. The introverted girl was a romantic to boot, it seemed.

Toby shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes they seem like they hate each other. But yeah, I think it's going to end up that way. If they ever stop arguing."

"So how do you come into it?

"I used to be the connection." Toby knew it the moment he said it. The link between the real world and Labyrinth had moved from his sister to himself years ago, when he summoned the Goblin King, and now it had moved back to her again. When did this happen? Why did it not bother him? "It's my sister now. It's one hell of a long story, really."

"But they're -good-."

Toby looked down at her face again. Sharon needed to believe. She needed something good in her life. Something to cling to. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. They're good. Jareth will never admit it. But yeah, he's good."

Sharon nestled in against him with a deep sigh of relief. Then, after a moment, she snickered. "You know. Those goblins. They really don't look like the goblins in Warcraft much."

"Hah. No. They're not like that at all."

"Tell me what they're really like, Tobias. Please."

Toby looked towards the pond again, thoughtfully. "They're children," he said at length. "I mean, they're obviously not -children-, but they're child-like. They don't care about yesterday or tomorrow. They can be mean. Really mean. But they're also some of the kindest beings I've ever met."

"And they're ugly." The girl said it with a tone of wonder.

Tobias shook his head. "Not to me, they're not. Well, they're not catwalk models, sure. But they're my friends. It's not like... I don't feel pity for them. They're very happy just the way they are. They don't want to be anything else. They call Jareth their king but really, he's more like... a parent or a caretaker."

"Are they really enchanted children?"

She had read the book. Toby shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I think they're... child spirits, maybe. Except, they're never going to stop being children. They're not going to grow up."

"That's a little... creepy."

Toby had to agree. "The Underground is like that. Nothing is really as it seems. It's not good and it's not evil. It's just there, and I've always figured I was lucky to get to know the goblins and their king."

She looked up at him again. "But what does the Goblin King -want-?"

Toby smiled lightly. "He wants the same thing you want. The same thing I want. What most people want. He wants to feel that he belongs. That there are people who need him just like he needs them. He's lonely. Nobody wants to be alone."

"I know what that's like," Sharon said passionately into his shirt.

Toby kissed the top of her head again. "What do -you- want?"

"Me?"

"No, your twin sister. Who else?"

"I just want to be left alone." She paused. "No, that's not true. I want Pete to leave me alone. I want to move out. I want to study. I want to be a vet or a nurse. I want to go out with you whenever I want to and not have to worry. I want to stop being afraid."

Toby put his other arm around her as well. "One way or another," he promised. "This is getting sorted out. And maybe you're going to have to get used to strange things like goblins, and fairies that bite, and grumpy dwarves, but that's cool. The world's full of people who claim they see ghosts and angels and whatnot, we'll just be the ones who see goblins. We'll move in next to somebody who talks to Elvis, then we'll look perfectly normal next to them."

"But not aliens." Sharon's voice was more confident than he recalled hearing before. "I don't like aliens."

* * *

The barn owl took off on silent wings behind the two people on the bench at the swan pond. They did not notice. People rarely did, not even the people who knew that barn owls aren't always barn owls. All Jareth needed to do now was one final nudge and the game would finish. He wanted it to finish now. It was getting tiresome, too many balls in the air at once, too many lives that required him to meddle. He made it look easy, and they never realized how hard it was, how much energy it took. He wanted to wrap up the stories, watch the happy endings, and just sit back and enjoy his winnings for a while. For quite a while.

One final push.

 


	34. Deal's On!

His landlord wouldn't do shit about the, well, shit in the cupboards. That's not rats, he had said. Look, son, I don't know what you and your friends do to get high, but you need to take a step back and maybe stick to regular booze for a while. As if he had friends coming over at night, friends who then went to the bathroom in the furniture because they were too high on drugs or shrooms to tell a kitchen cupboard from a toilet seat. As if he wanted people in his most private place to begin with. People, with their dirty hands and their muddy shoes, leaving dirt and prints everywhere. The place reeked. The landlord had not been joking when he said, son, you need to sort things out or you're going to have to move out. You're wrecking this place. I don't know what you do here at night but there is no gas leak.

It was not fair. Pete Thompson threw his empty soda can out the window. Maybe it would hit that damned bird. He hoped so. Never seen a bird like it. Ugly. Depressing. It weirded him out. He needed to look for a new place to live, somewhere clean. The people upstairs had left a cautious note in his mail slot. Could he check if maybe his fridge had lost power and something had spoiled?

His cellphone buzzed. He picked it up and looked. A message, from an unknown number. Probably some telemarketer or scam artist.

"Look at it," Cuchullain the mackerel cat whispered from the garden fence outside. "Look at it."

Pete wasn't sure why he did, but he tapped the message indicator with his finger. It was a picture. Sharon. Sharon sitting on a bench. Sharon sitting on a bench with some tall, blonde guy. No, not sitting. Snuggling up against. Cuddling, even.

What. The. Hell?

He looked again. An address.

"He's kissing her right now," Badger the tuxedo cat hummed. "What are you going to do about it?"

Rage filled Pete's vision. For a moment he actually saw everything in a red hue. His temples throbbed. How dared she? Going behind his back like that with some blond idiot who looked like – that was probably Tobias!

He'd show Tobias what happens when you mess with another man's woman.

"He's making you look weak," Cuchullain teased.

"Are you weak, Pete Thompson?" Badger taunted.

The door slammed. The two goblins pretending to be cats exchanged looks, then grinned to one another at a job well done. "We rock," Cuchullain said.

Badger shrugged. "Still not fair that Elmo gets to take the pictures." He wanted his own cellphone, too.

* * *

Sarah was deeply immersed in drawing the almost Rastafarian locks on a small goblin (well, supposedly elf, but she knew better) head and she nearly dropped the digital pen when the doorbell rang. Her doorbell never rang. Toby had his own key. She quickly saved her progress on the laptop, then got up to open.

Outside her door, the Goblin King leaned idly against the wall, one leg drawn up under himself and arms crossed. He looked gorgeous. A black leather coat draped itself around him in a way that reminded her of that armour-like outfit he had worn when they met for the very first time. Tall, black boots that hugged his shins. Tight, black jeans. He belonged on a late eighties hair metal poster, Sarah thought. Or in my bed.

He caught her look at as it roamed up and down him and winked at her.

She blushed crimson. "Yes, yes. I like what I see. What are you doing here?"

The Goblin King looked idly at his gloved hands. "Oh, you know how it is, there is this woman whom I have no power over, so if I want to appear in her living room I have to knock on her door."

Sarah chuckled and stepped aside to let him in. "Like that's stopped you from abducting me several times already."

"It will not stop me in the future either, dearest. But your mind was somewhere else and I rather wanted to see you now." He stayed where he was.

"Well? Are you coming in?"

He shook his head. Most of his wild hair had been tied into a low ponytail. "I am of a mind for a walk. Join me?"

Sarah glanced back at her desk and the laptop, then nodded. She grabbed her coat. "Okay. Where are we going?"

With a small, courteous bow he offered her his gloved hand. She chuckled and took it. The world fell down in a shower of glitter, sparkles, and fairytale magic. Dating the Goblin King would be many things, but boring was definitely not going to be one of those things.

Reality reasserted itself. Trees with mostly naked branches. Wintery sunlight sparkling in the surface of the swan pond. Right, she knew this place. They were between the trees in the little swan pond park near her parents' home. Sarah even managed to keep her balance as the ground under her feet became solid again – with a little help from clinging to the king's arm. He did not seem to mind. She looked up at him and he winked at her, and pointed with a leather-clad finger.

She looked. Two people sat on the little park bench. Tobias, with his arms around someone. Sharon the mouse. Sarah smiled. "That's sweet."

"For now," Jareth said blithely. "Look over there."

Sarah looked in the direction of the road that wound past the little park. A green station car came to a halt with one wheel on the pavement. A shaggy-haired youth emerged. She could not see his face well at this distance but his posture screamed bloody murder. He stormed up the path towards the couple on the bench.

Sara glanced back at the Goblin King. "That's not good. That's him, isn't it? That's Pete Thompson."

He nodded. A small smile danced on his lips. "Breathe, big sister bear. Toby can handle it."

Sarah turned to look again.

Pete Thompson prided himself on being able to talk anyone into anything. He was charming. He was funny. He was in control. People always ended up doing what he wanted them to do. Things worked out. When they didn't, somebody else was left with the blame and the bill. The strong prey on the weak. A man makes his own luck. You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. Fortune favours the bold. All the platitudes, and not one of them helped him keep his temper in check now. That bastard! That jerk was putting the moves on his woman! This was not a time for words.

Toby did not see him coming. The blond wanker was looking into Sharon's eyes as they widened: She saw the sudden appearance next to them, and the punch that came flying for Toby's jaw, but not soon enough to react in time.

The youth looked up, dazed, then got on his feet and shoved the other man away. "What the hell?"

Sharon whimpered. "Please, please."

"Get the fuck away from my girlfriend!" Pete bellowed.

Toby looked him up and down. The gesture was so Goblin King that in spite of everything, Sarah almost laughed. It was infuriating, condescending, and for the moment, perfect. "So you're Pete," he said at length. "I had expected... more."

"Pete, please," Sharon murmured, though from the way she hid her mouth behind her hands, she knew no one was listening, no one ever had been.

"You're coming home with me right now, you lying bitch!" Pete declared and walked towards her.

Toby stepped in front of the girl. "What the heck's wrong with you, man? Are you drunk? You stink!"

Sarah could almost hear the little 'crack' as the shaggy-haired youth's last shred of self control snapped and fell apart. Whatever psychological terror Jareth had been inflicting on him over the last couple of days had clearly worked. He was acting on pure, blind rage now as he launched himself at Toby.

Her little brother surprised her. Toby ducked into a crouch and twisted his body to the side as Pete made impact in an attempt to throw him down. Toby remained standing, and Pete ended up on his face in the grass. It looked like it hurt, too.

"Sir Didymus is a competent instructor in the martial arts," the Goblin King observed with quiet amusement.

Sarah blinked. "You're enjoying this."

"Oh yes," he admitted. "I'm quite proud of that boy."

Pete scrabbled back to his feet and circled around Toby. "I'm going to fuck you up, fucktard, you fucked with the wrong man."

Toby looked at him down his nose, putting his height to advantage, and, well, looked a lot like his royal mentor in posture and bearing. "You're going to -try-."

"Please, Pete, stop," Sharon begged. Somehow, she ended standing between the two men. She did not look like a maiden of a romance that two rivals were duelling over. She looked like a broken mouse watching her world fall apart.

"I'm calling the police," Sarah said, and fished for her cellphone in her pocket.

Jareth placed his gloved hand over hers. "Wait."

Pete made another attempt to rush at Toby and use his superior weight to knock him over. Toby simply stepped out of the way with the grace of a skilled fencer, again. Pete ended up in the grass, again.

"You got one hit in on me," Toby said matter-of-factly. "You're not getting another. Go home. Get sober. Get clean."

"Stop it, Pete," Sharon begged again.

"You shut up, bitch!" The youth, blinded by rage, turned upon her. "I'll teach you to cheat on me!"

"No," she said, terrified. "No! Please, no!"

Toby stepped in front of her protectively but Pete bolted around him. In his red-hot anger, he had lost interest in the blond youth, seeing only the woman whom he felt had betrayed him.

Sharon backed away, hands in front of herself in a futile attempt to shield herself. "No, no, please, you're -wrong-, I'm not your girlfriend, please, you don't own me!"

It was like watching a movie in slow motion. Sarah saw Pete raise his fist to strike the girl down. She saw Toby reach out, trying to intercept the blow. She saw Sharon recoil from the blow she knew was coming. She heard the girl's voice loud and clear though it was just a desperate whisper: "I wish it was all real and the goblins would drag you off to hell."

Like somebody had pushed a magic button, time froze.

"Close enough," said Sir Didymus from behind a tree.

"She said the right words," said Cuchullain from up the tree. "Well, almost."

"Works for me," said Krystyna from under the little bridge.

"Deal's on," Elmo said from behind the bench.

"The intent's clear enough," the Goblin King agreed and stepped forth from between the trees, black coat now a cape trailing behind him. The outraged, time-frozen figure that was Pete Thompson faded away like a bad smell. One moment he was there. The next, he was not.

Sharon unfroze and looked at the Goblin King in his full, dark regalia in a mix of terror and awe as he approached, Sarah one step behind him. He looked nothing like an art director or hipster writer now. He looked otherworldly, not all that human, and rather intimidating.

Toby rubbed his jaw where Pete had struck him. "Couldn't you have turned up a minute earlier?" he asked irreverently.

Jareth smirked.

Sarah ignored them both and went straight for Sharon. "Hey there, are you okay?"

The girl was shaking. Sarah put her arms around her and for a moment just held her. At length Sharon whispered, "Where is he?"

"Somewhere you put people you wish to forget about," the Goblin King replied.

Toby glanced at him with a small, boyish grin. "You tossed him in the oubliette?"

Jareth hitched a shoulder. "He didn't seem worth remembering."

"I'm glad you two are having fun," Sarah said dryly. "And now I'm taking Sharon home."

Toby at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. His mentor didn't. "We can take my pick-up," the youth said. "Your place, sis?"

Sarah nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

The Goblin King laughed softly. "I'll see to matters elsewhere in the meantime."

* * *

They drove in silence. Sarah kept her arm around Sharon who kept her head down and her eyes mostly closed. Sometimes a little sob escaped her. It was hard to tell how much was terror at what she had just witnessed. Sarah had a suspicion it was not all fear. The girl had just evaded being beaten by an irate and not at all rational ex-boyfriend. Sarah doubted she was all that unhappy about that. She wondered if this was the first time someone had actually gotten between Sharon and people who wanted to abuse her. No wonder the mouse girl needed a little time to sort her emotions.

She let Toby guide the girl up the stairs to her apartment and inside. If she'd known she was having guests she'd have put the laptop away and tidied up a little. Oh well. When was the last time her life had been anything like normal? Even before this whole mess with Sharon, before the Goblin King had made his way back into her life, there had been goblins and the chaos that goblins leave in their wake wherever they go.

"Let me fix up a pot of tea," she offered as people shuffled inside.

Sharon let Toby pilot her to the sofa where he sat down next to her. "Sharon, I'm sorry," the youth said. "I'm not even sure what happened there. I've never even met the guy before."

The girl looked at her feet. "He doesn't like me talking to other guys."

Toby sighed and ran a hand through his unruly, blond mane. "Hell, Sharon, I gotta say. I'm starting to see why you were so worried about meeting up in real life. That guys' a complete ass."

Sarah found three mugs in the kitchen cupboard. Two with flower designs, one that read '#1 Dad'. She had no idea where that one came from. "You need to report him for assault, Tobes. Can't let him get away with that."

"Report who?" Toby said with a small, malicious smile.

Sarah turned the electrical kettle on. "The King can't keep him forever, I figure."

"Why not?"

"Do you want that ass running around the Goblin City for you to meet every other day?"

"Good point," he conceded.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Sharon complained in a small voice. "Where did he go?"

Sarah turned around and smiled. "It's a long story. And I think it's time we tell it, little bro."

 


	35. I Want My Phone Call

It was dark. The room was circular. It was maybe twenty paces across at best. There was a cupboard but it was locked and no amount of prying at it had worked. There were no doors. No windows. No exits. Not even a bucket for him to do his business in. It was like he had dropped right off the surface of the earth and now there was only the dark and the solitude. He had no idea how much time passed, how much time had passed already. He needed to take a leak but did not want to do it on the floor where he might get it on his shoes.

Where the hell was he? What happened? One moment he was going to punch that smug, two-timing smile right off the little skank's face and the next –

And then he was not alone.

Something sparkled. Light from an unseen source reflected in the metal latticework on the leather breastplate of the caped stranger who had –

What was it he had done exactly? Pete was not certain. He had been focused on the whore when this other man had appeared.

He was standing there, silent in the darkness. For how long? Pete could not tell where the cloak ended and swirling tendrils of darkness and shadow began. His pale hair was streaked with black. His clothes, or armour, or whatever it was supposed to be, was black. The room was black. Everything was black, but for that faint, fragile light that danced off the metal like tiny, silvery fireflies.

That... person... that was not a man. That was not a human being. He looked into eyes of different shades of cold blue and knew that he was not seeing someone he could punch or threaten or cajole or manipulate. He was looking at something too old, too primal. Something that looked like a man but wasn't. Fear crept up his spine.

"You're him, aren't you," his mouth said, as of its own accord. "You're Death."

The figure smirked.

Almost forgotten memories from Sunday school asserted themselves. Pete made the sign of the cross in front of himself.

The dark figure smirked again.

"I put my faith in the Lord," Pete said. "You have no power over me." He really, really hoped it was true. When was the last time he had thought about his faith? When was the last time he'd had communion?

"You can put your faith where you like," the apparition said matter-of-factly in a voice like velvet concealing daggers. "The only one who can save you now is Sharon. I don't think she's going to come rescue you, Pete. I don't think Sharon is going to miss you very much. Such a pity."

"Where am I?" Pete demanded. His voice sounded thin, as if it could barely penetrate the dark.

The figure made a dismissive wave with one gauntleted hand. "Nowhere. This is a place for people who have been forgotten. People whom no one will miss."

"You can't just keep me here," the youth said. "My landlord will know I'm missing. When I don't pay my rent -"

"Of all the people in the world that you have known, of all the people that you could have given reason to like and care for you, only your -landlord- will remember you when you are gone?" The stranger's voice dripped contempt. "Seems to me like you deserve to be here, Pete."

"You can't keep me here." He made a last ditch effort to muster up his bravado. "I have rights."

The dark figure threw his head back and laughed.

"I have rights!" Pete repeated. He did not like how shrill his voice sounded.

The dual-coloured gaze fixed on him and he felt very small and fragile. "Yes," the other man said at length. "Yes, you do. You have that one last right not even I can take from you, Pete. You have the right to be forgotten."

"I want my phone call!" His voice had an edge of hysteria to it now and he did not care.

The dark apparition laughed again and even as he did, his cloak folded around him in a swish of shadow, and he was gone. Just like that, there one moment and gone the next, like a figment of the imagination.

Maybe he was losing his mind.

* * *

It was a long story, the one that began on a windy summer evening when Sarah was a teenage girl who did not want to babysit. Twenty and a few years later it had not yet ended. There was a lot to tell and a lot of questions to answer, and even so, Sarah knew that Sharon would have more questions tomorrow. She was not certain the girl even believed all of it – but some of it, at least. It was hard to argue with the girl's own abduction to the hedge maze. She had no other explanation for Pete's sudden disappearance from the park. She was trying very hard to believe, at least.

The gaggle of goblins sitting on the floor and the kitchen counters listening and commenting, those were a tad hard to ignore, too. They made no effort to remain unseen by Sharon now. She had been adopted into the pack, figuratively speaking. The fairytale cruise had left the pier and Sharon was on it whether she wanted to or not. Sarah almost felt sorry for her. But only almost. The Goblin King's kingdom and minions might be quite something to get used to, but in their own twisted, sometimes frightening, sometimes adorable, always unpredictable way, they were beautiful and kind. Sharon's life would be enriched, for the good and bad of it.

Her life would definitely not be boring.

Sarah's eyes closed on the pillow. She was tired. She could hear Sharon and Toby whispering on the sofa in the living room. Sharon worried what her father would say if he came home and found she had stayed out all night. Toby had demonstrated his aptitude in thinking like his royal mentor: He had talked Octavius and Anastasia into slipping off to drop a few whispers in parental ears about being too tired to care about daughters and their whereabouts tonight. Sharon was not entirely convinced that it would work.

She was going to have to talk to Toby about that later, make sure he understood that such power could be abused. It had to be handled responsibly, maybe it shouldn't be handled at all... Though if she had to be fair, she had to admit that maybe Toby knew that already. Her kid brother seemed to know what he was doing, on the whole. He seemed to have a healthy attitude towards the allure of goblin magic and the dangers it presented. When did he grow to be so adult? Coming to think of it, for how many years had he had access to goblin magic and still had not turned their small town upside down to suit himself? Baby brother though he might be, the kid had a keen sense of responsibility.

The whispers grew distant. After a while they turned into gentle ballroom music.

Ah. She had fallen asleep. Now she was back in the crystal dream, a teenager in a beautiful white dress lost among strangers that moved and twisted around her, some of them laughing, some of them leering. And there he was, her wild-haired king in the sparkly blue frock coat, gliding towards her, inviting her to chase him through the crowd.

As she failed to give chase, he caught her instead. His hands closed on her arms, attempting to guide her into the dance. She looked into his eyes and he smiled at her, eyes sparkling with mischief and promises that a teenage virgin would not understand.

Sarah stood still. "You're beautiful. Gorgeous. But I'm really tired and you're just an image. I know you see what I dream but this is still just the cardboard cut-out version of you. Let's get some sleep. You can take me dancing when we're awake and you'll actually be there in the flesh."

She freed herself from his embrace and trotted towards the pillow pit at the centre of the ballroom, yawning.

* * *

Sharon woke up early. She was a light sleeper, and she was not accustomed to sharing her bed with someone else. Not that it was a proper bed, either: Sarah's living room sofa was not quite wide enough to accommodate herself and Toby both comfortably. She opened her eyes. Toby snored lightly into her ear, that was likely what had roused her. She needed the bathroom, too. She carefully slipped out from under his arm and tip-toed through the apartment.

The apartment was surprisingly small. Toby's sister pretty much had a kitchen, a workspace, and a bedroom. The sofa seemed a bit of an afterthought next to a bookcase, maybe she liked to read. Sharon had some vague notion that a woman her age ought to have – more. Somehow. Like, room for kids? Only one person seemed to live here, Jareth had not left as much as a shirt or a toothbrush. Sharon thought they were a couple but maybe she was wrong about that. Maybe Sarah just wasn't a family person. Maybe whatever Jareth was didn't do romance.

Who was she to judge? She lived in her father's house and never went out besides going to school, spent her entire social life online in a video game because that way she did not have to deal with the complex game that was interacting with living people. Sharon shook her head at herself and washed her hands in the little bathroom sink.

Something tugged on her t-shirt. She spun around, startled, and then looked down.

It was the female goblin with the blond hair and the pig face. Anastasia. She was holding up a bright yellow toothbrush. "Sarah doesn't have spares," she explained. "I got this for you."

Sharon's heart stopped leaping around in her chest. She managed a smile. "Thank you. I did not see you come into the bathroom."

The goblin girl giggled. "Oh, people never see us. That's okay."

Living with goblins apparently meant giving up bathroom privacy privileges. Sharon wasn't convinced she'd be happy about that, ever.

"I brought one for Toby too," Anastasia said proudly.

"That's very kind of you," Sharon agreed and deliberately did not ask where the goblin had gotten the toothbrushes. They were still in their plastic wrappers, at least. She really wanted to be nice to the goblins. It took effort. They were physical reminders that nothing was as it used to be any more. And honestly, some of them were hideous and frightening to look at.

She used the toothbrush for its intended purpose and then shuffled back into the living room. Toby sat on the sofa, yawning. "I hate sleeping in my clothes," he admitted. "Did you sleep all right?"

"I feel like I should shower," she confessed.

Toby nodded. "Yeah, I know that feeling. Guess we need to decide where we want to go to do that."

She blushed. Damn it! She was not a child, why was she blushing? Because her mind's eye had pictured her and Toby showering at the same time, together, in the same shower. Together. Naked.

Fortunately he did not notice. "Maybe we can pick up a sandwich for breakfast too when I drive you home, or something."

"Are you going home?" Anastasia sat on top of the sofa's backrest.

"Well, yeah," Toby replied and tried to comb his tussled hair with his fingers. "Life goes on, you know?"

"But..." Sharon bit her lip. "But what about Pete?"

"What about him?" Toby looked blank.

"You said that he... Jareth... put him in a dungeon. The place for people that you want to forget about. But he can't just stay there, can he?"

"Uh." Toby scratched his knee. "Guess I hadn't really gotten around to thinking about that yet. You're right. We should talk to Jareth about what he's going to do about that."

Sharon nodded and wished she had the stomach to say, let him stay there.

The bedroom door opened and Sarah emerged in track pants and morning hair. "Morning, sunshines." She went in a beeline for the kitchen counter to put on water for coffee.

"Hey," Toby and Anastasia said in unison.

"You two slept all right?" Sarah asked. "Never really expected people to be sleeping over or I'd get a better sofa."

Her brother grinned. "Got a crick in the neck that may need repeat applications of unhealthy food later. Otherwise good."

Sarah yawned. "So what's the plan? Heard you two whispering still when I passed out. What'd you come up with?"

"Well, we want showers and clean clothes. And food. After that, we should probably sit down and decide on what we do with the oubliette champion."

Sharon nodded enthusiastically at the idea of shower and clean clothes.

Sarah reached for the instant coffee. "What makes you think you got any say in that matter?"

"What?" Toby looked puzzled.

Sarah looked at him. "You know how it works, Toby. This isn't about you and me. Sharon's the only one whose opinion matters right now where Pete Thompson is concerned. And she's going to have to convince the Goblin King to let him go if she wants him back." She turned back to the counter. "Either of you want sugar in this?"

"Two spoons, yeah." Toby made eager grabby hands.

Sharon looked from one to the other. At last she found the courage to say, "We have to do -something-."

Sarah handed out mugs. "Yep. And we're going to. But there are rules to how these things work. Fairytale rules. They have to be done in a certain way. Toby and I can talk all we want, but when it comes to your ex, well. It's all on you in the end."

 


	36. How's Your Tango?

Darkness. Everything was dark. How long had Pete been there, alone in the dark? He had had to go to the bathroom several times, though of course that meant walking off to the side, doing his thing, and then walking back and hoping that the slight slant of the floor would keep his sitting spot dry. The smell almost did not bother him any more, he was getting used to it.

Why was he being kept here? What was the point?

To be forgotten?

No matter how hard he tried, Pete Thompson could not think of anyone who would call the police when they thought him missing. Sure, classmates might wonder where he had gone when he did not turn up for lectures, but they'd probably think he had transferred or dropped out. His landlord would be pissed but surely he had had people bail on the rent before. His parents? Hadn't talked to them for years.

It was not fair! He did not deserve this! He was not a drug dealer or a mass murderer, or anything else that deserved such severe punishment! Maybe he had taken advantage of fools now and then, who didn't? Maybe he had made up a few rumours about others to put them in a bad light – come on, that's how the game was played. If you're not willing to step on a few heads you'll never make it to the top. He had only done to others what they would no doubt do to him if he had not beaten them to it. Wrap it up in fluff and bleeding hearts all you like, people are still dicks.

For the first time in his life he wondered if just possibly, he had made one or two bad decisions in the past.

* * *

They'd taken turns showering in Sarah's small bathroom. Sharon had complained slightly about the lack of fresh clothes and then discovered several other shirts, ladies underwear in various sizes, shapes, and colours, and a My Little Pony hairband with a plastic heart outside the bathroom door when she was done showering. Apparently the goblin gang liked the mouse girl. Sarah decided to not lecture them on the wrongs of petty theft, just this once. Now the three of them were polishing off the last bites of breakfast at her kitchen table and discussing how power worked in the Labyrinth.

"Everything there works by very specific rules," Sarah explained – for the second or third time, but honestly, it was a lot for Sharon to take in and some of it was pretty absurd to the ears of normal people. "Basically, Sharon, since you're the one who said the words that made the goblins take Pete away, you're the only one who has power over him."

"And the Goblin King," Sharon said meekly.

"Yeah, no." Toby shook his head. "Jareth's powerful as all hell but he has to play by the rules of his kingdom. And that kinda means, he may have all the magic but you're the one who calls the shots."

Sharon's face went white.

"Thanks, Toby," Sarah said drily. "Let's not forget that Jareth's on our side this time."

"I'm not running the Labyrinth for Pete," Sharon said. "If it's going to be like that, he can stay there. See if I care."

Toby chuckled and put cheese on his third bagel. "Knowing Jareth, it'd be the shortest, least complicated run ever. Jump over this burned match. You can do that? Good. Here's the oubliette key. Thank you for playing."

Sarah could not help crack a smile at his impersonation of the mercurial goblin monarch. Then she sipped her coffee. "What I am saying is, it's all Sharon's call. We can bring him back here and report him for assault."

"I don't know," Sharon said piteously. "I don't want any trouble."

Toby looked at her, and then back at his sister. He straightened up a little in his chair. "Look, Sarah, it's not just about power. It's about what people think they want and what they really want. Jareth's always been big on people learning what it is they really desire. Clearing the distractions, see the truth." He turned his head to Sharon and put his hand over hers.

"I just want people to leave me alone," she said miserably.

"Then that's how we play it," Sarah agreed. "We don't need police and people asking questions."

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "Though somebody should mention you sound like you want us to drag the guy out back and cap him, Sis."

Sarah blinked and laughed. "Well, maybe that's going a little too far. But we do need to go home and face your mother, and that may be almost as bad."

Sharon made a small squeak. Her day was just not getting better.

"Fogeddaboudit," Toby grinned and got up to put his jacket on. "Let's go home."

The drive to their parents' house was not long. They drove in Sarah's car; Toby would have to come pick up his pickup later. Sarah threw the occasional glance at Sharon when traffic allowed, sitting in the back seat with Toby's arms around her,.

Had she been that terrified when the goblins invaded her life? Had she been skirting the edge of a complete breakdown too?

No. She had not. She had been afraid to lose her brother, definitely. Afraid to get hurt on her Underground ordeal, definitely. But she had never been afraid like Sharon was afraid. She suspected she did not even begin to understand the anxiety that permeated the girl's life. Sarah was strong, and she knew it. She had done cosplay in the park before cosplay was even a thing. She had performed in public no matter who walked past and might laugh, no matter how much she got teased by the other kids for being weird. She had had a healthy childhood. Her parents, even with the divorce, had given her a good, solid foundation to stand on. She had grown up to pursue her love of fantasy and magic and become an artist. In a world full of fantasy artists, she did well enough to have a name, to pay rent and put food on the table. She was a whole person. She did not know what it was like to live in constant terror of inadequacy and rejection.

Toby's got his work cut out for him, she thought, not for the first time. Fortunately, Toby had the same solid foundation under his feet that she had been raised with, and the magic of the Underground to boot.

Sharon gasped when they left the car. Toby looked surprised, then followed her gaze up at the old Victorian house. "Yeah," he said. "It's pretty neat I suppose."

"It's so nice," Sharon said admiringly.

"We're spoiled by growing up here," Sarah agreed. "You never see what's right under your nose, you know? Come on, guys." She stomped up the driveway and unlocked the door.

Might as well have thrown a freshly butchered lamb to the vultures, she thought with amusement as Karen materialized at the sight of Sharon.

* * *

There was an old pear tree in the garden. It had not bore any fruit worth mentioning for a decade or more, but the kids' swing still hung from it. Moreover, it was conveniently out of sight from the windows of the Victorian house, something which both children of the house had appreciated as they grew into teenagers, with teenagers' occasional needs to go somewhere out of sight to sulk.

Sarah smiled to herself as she turned from the garden path, coffee mug cradled in her hands, and saw the swing currently occupied by a long-legged figure in black. The cape trailed on the ground behind him as he sat, one leg across the other. She wondered if he realized that sitting like that, a dark-clad warrior on a child's swing, he embodied everything the Underground was: Child-like, carefree, and potentially scary as all hell.

She threw him a casual wave. "Thought you might be around here, somewhere."

The swing turned slowly until the Goblin King faced her, a small, smug smile dancing on his lips. "Oh, I did wonder if it would be you or Toby coming to see me first."

Sarah sat down in the grass. Autumn was getting cold but the ground was dry. "Toby is providing emotional support. I get to be the irresponsible one that sneaks out the garden door while the grown-ups sort things out. How's things in the Underground?"

He tilted his head, blonde locks falling into his face. "If by 'things' you mean Pete Thompson, I do believe he's currently feeling very sorry for himself. He truly is a detestable little person."

Sarah stretched her legs. "I've no doubt from what I've seen of him. What are you planning to do with him?"

The King laughed softly. "Sharon has a say in that, mm?"

"Thought so. Got to say, I don't quite see her running the Labyrinth to free him." Sarah chuckled.

He scoffed. "Not likely. Why did you bring her here, though?"

Sarah looked back at the garden path to the house. After a moment she said, "Because Sharon needs to be here. She needs an adult to look after her for a bit, help her get on with things. Toby's not old enough to count as a mature role model and I'm not up for being a mum."

"But your stepmother is." He nodded.

"You have no idea," Sarah nodded contentedly and sipped her coffee.

Jareth laughed softly, then looked at her with those blue eyes in different shades. "He belongs to me now, you do realize that."

Sarah shrugged. "Fine by me."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I actually expected you to want to argue about that."

Sarah shook her head. "You're not getting a rise out of me about this. Nothing I've seen or heard so far makes me want to play devil's advocate. I'm no mind reader, but I seriously doubt that Sharon's going to throw the little red rulebook at you, either."

The dark-clad king stood and walked over to stand next to her. "Allow me to make a radical proposition then, my dear. Let us forget about Pete Thompson and pursue that interesting suggestion from last night. I rather do think I am a better dancer than a cardboard cut-out of myself." He offered her his gloved hand.

Sarah laughed. "Do I need to go home to change into a dress or do you have that covered as well?"

He smirked. "What do you think?"

She stood and put her hand in his. "I think that I rather like red. Something Latin with a lot of open back. How's your tango?"

* * *

"Rob," Karen said to her husband. "Rob, put down the newspaper for just a moment, please. I need you to pay attention."

When his wife used that tone, a man who liked his steaks not burned and his shirts well ironed did well to listen closely. Rob dropped the paper to his lap and watched his wife pace the living room. She was beautiful still. He particularly liked the way she walked. Tall and straight. A lioness on the prowl. He always felt a pang of pride, looking at her, that someone as, well, ordinary as himself had managed to net – and keep! – such a fine specimen.

"That girl can't go on living like that," his wife was saying as he belatedly remembered to listen, rather than watch. "She's pretty and she's smart. She needs to study."

Rob quirked a bushy eyebrow. "I thought she was in community college with Toby?"

Karen nodded. "And she's doing poorly. It doesn't take a genius to see why, between a father who thinks she's his housekeeper and that abusive boyfriend. Well, at least the boyfriend is sorted out now."

"Oh, he is?" He was not entirely certain what the deal was. Something about Toby and some other fellow contending for the girl.

His wife nodded firmly. Her curls danced. He liked looking at them. "Sarah's room is still empty. Sharon's having it for now."

Rob blinked. "You want her to move in here?"

Karen put her hands on her hips. "That girl needs some looking after."

He rubbed his eyes. "If you say so, dear… But aren't they a little young to move in together?"

The lioness glared at him. "They're adults!"

He backed down from that look. "Well, you're usually right about things, honey."

"I know," Karen said with a smug smile. "Sharon will have Sarah's room. It'll be like a co-ed dorm. They'll be dating each other and they share the same mail address, but they're not living together per se. I've missed having a girl in the house."

Rob chuckled. "Well, try not to steam-roll her, she seems a bit shy."

Karen took her hands off her hips and then put them right back. "Don't you worry, Rob Williams. I'm going to help that girl grow some backbone."

"And her father is all right with this?" he asked.

The look of the lioness could have made an angry elephant back away on its tippy toes. "He better be."

 


	37. It's How It's Done

Sharon's father did not make much of an argument about whether his daughter could move out. If anything, he had acted mostly surprised that Sharon would show any initiative of her own, and Karen had swept his concerns aside. Toby drove the pickup truck down to Sharon's house and the older man helped pack and load her belongings. "It's going to be strange to be alone in the house," he said with a trace of wistfulness. "She's a good girl. Your mother better be ready to take good care of her."

Toby curbed his dislike and managed a grin. "Mom's part tiger."

The other man nodded and said nothing more while they put the suitcase and a couple of boxes in the pickup. Only as Toby was hopping into the driver's seat did the other man hold the door open a moment. "I always tried to take care of her, you know. It's just… life's a bitch sometimes."

Toby nodded politely. He had a vague notion that arguing with his girlfriend's father would not only be pointless, it would probably upset her.

"Never meant for her to fall in with that Thompson kid. Should have been around more."

Again, Toby could only nod.

The older man sighed. "You're young. When you're older you'll understand. Tell my little girl the door's always open if she changes her mind."

He let go of the door and Toby quickly closed it before waving and turning the engine on. He let a sigh of his own as the pickup cleared the driveway. He hoped he would never actually grow old enough to understand giving up like Sharon's father had. He did not want to know what speed bumps life could throw at a man to make him just not care any more. To make him see his own child as a perpetual disruption that must be controlled and silenced. A part of him wanted to drive back and punch the man in the teeth. "That was awkward," he murmured.

"Why?" A goblin head poked up from the back seat.

"Don't startle me like that when I'm driving," Toby groused.

"I'm not startling. I'm watching."

"Right," Toby consented. "Well, you're watching very well, Truff."

"I know."

He shook his head to hide a small smile and drove.

When he pulled into the driveway of the Williams residence Sharon was sitting on the porch, waiting for him. She waved and hurried down to help unpack. "Hey there," Toby greeted her and pointed at the back-seat goblin."This is Truff. He's on watch duty."

The goblin nodded proudly.

"Hello," Sharon said and bit her lip. She was still a tad uneasy around the otherworldly brat pack.

"I like Xena," Truff supplied helpfully.

Sharon blinked. "Xena? Like, the old TV show?" Toby made quick warning gestures over Truff's diminutive shoulders. She quickly added, "It's very good, isn't it?"

Truff looked the girl up and down as if appraising her sincerity. Then, with a firm nod, he walked over and hugged her leg tight.

"The beginning of a beautiful friendship," Toby murmured and fled with a box of shirts.

* * *

Sarah reclined against the trunk of one of the lilacs, sheltered from the Underground's warm, Mediterranean sun by its branches. The tree was in full bloom still – time passed at its own discretion here, and the Monet garden was quickly becoming her favourite place. The sky was always blue, the breeze was always mild. The pleasant spring weather that coaxed lilacs to bloom seemed ever-lasting. Attempting to understand the weather systems of the Underground could probably give a meteorologist a mental breakdown in a matter of minutes.

She looked at her companion. He sat in the dappled sunlight, dressed in dazzling shades of blue, playing with one of his trademark crystal balls. It travelled across his knuckles, up and down his forearm, and for moments at a time, seemed to actually fly on its own before deftly returned to his hand. She would never stop admiring his skill with the things.

The Goblin King caught her look and spun the crystal on his fingertips. "You are thinking of work," he said good-naturedly.

Sarah smiled. "I should be. Will's still expecting those elves done by the end of the week."

He shrugged and flicked the crystal to his other hand where it proceeded to dance back and forth on his knuckles. "I will give you the time. Enjoy the present."

She chuckled and flicked a straw a grass at him. It did not break his concentration in the slightest. "That's easy for you to say, dear. I'm still human. I still think in linear time. I get poof lag."

Jareth smirked. "And you're certain that that is the only reason you're feeling – twitchy?"

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He threw the crystal up in the air where it vanished with a small 'plink'. Then he walked over to sit next to her under the lilacs. "You tell stories, Sarah. How does it feel to not be the protagonist?"

Sarah thought for a moment, then laughed softly. "Oh, no, no. Sharon's a much better damsel in distress than I am. Toby will make a fine fairytale prince. I just want to draw elves and fairies and spend time here with you."

He nodded. "Good. Our story's nearing its end. Theirs is just beginning, and we may not turn out to be in it at all in the long term."

"I'm sure we'll get to make the occasional cameo," Sarah quipped. "What do you mean, nearing its end?"

He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face and smiled at her. "Barring a few loose ends, I'd say we've met the criteria of good narrative and that we're rapidly approaching our happy ending, mm?"

"Well, things have to be done in certain ways in stories," Sarah agreed. "What loose ends are those?"

The Goblin King smiled. "I do believe that a long kissing scene is traditional."

Sarah tilted her head and pretended to think about it. "There should be singing Disney birds for one of those."

"I could teach a couple of goblins. How does it go in that underwater one, 'Kiss the girl'?"

"I'll kiss you if you don't. Besides, I've kissed you before."

He nodded with good humour. "Indeed you have. But things have to be done in certain ways in stories."

Sarah chuckled. "Well, if that's the way things are done," she surrendered and leaned into his embrace.

As their lips met, the magic of the Underground hit her like a wave of warm, magical water that swept her away on a current of glitter. For a moment she felt like she was drowning, and then like she was two different people: One of the two was a fairytale princess finally falling into the waiting arms of her knight in white, complete with singing goblins and frilly dresses, and it was right, it was the way it was supposed to be, this is how stories work –

The other half of her, the rational, adult, grown-up Sarah thought wryly that fairytale Sarah was laying it on a bit thick. But, you know, it was working. Yeah. It was definitely going to be all right.

* * *

"Why do I feel like I've forgotten something?" Sharon said and rested her head on Toby's shoulder. His hair smelled good and the Underground sun was warm on her face as they sat on a bench in the hedge maze, surrounded by textbooks. "Everything is perfect."

Toby laughed and slipped his arm around her shoulder. "Well, I don't know if it's perfect, but I think we're doing pretty good."

Sharon could not help a small giggle. "It's still cheating, though."

He shrugged. "Nah. Look at it this way. If the Wiseman and the Goblin King's extensive library -and- all the time we want can't make you good enough to net a scholarship, then nothing will."

"It still feels like cheating a little. Other students don't have literally all the time they want."

Toby laughed. "I'm okay with that. I want to be married to a vet. Cheat away."

Sharon let her gaze wander. The view was astounding, even as she was growing accustomed to the Underground. Pathways disappeared when one looked away, others taking their places and pretending to have been there all along. Creatures walked along on their own business. Statues turned into amphoras and amphoras turned into fat baby Cupids. Nothing ever stayed as it was for long.

A group of creatures on one of the paths caught her eye and she pulled Toby's sleeve. "What are those?"

A very big, bright red, ape-like creature with large horns was bellowing at a group of goblins on one of the pathways that had just turned up. The goblins in turn were trying very hard to pay attention, with the varying levels of success that one would expect from goblins.

Toby laughed. "That's Ludo. He's… I don't know what he is. Some kind of yeti but red? He talks to rocks."

Sharon blinked. "And do the rocks talk back?"

Toby gave her a crooked grin. "Well, I've never heard them say anything but they do what he asks them to do. Watch."

The gentle, red giant waved a massive arm at a pile of rocks. Sharon was fairly certain they had not been there a moment ago, and as she watched, one bounced off the top of the pile and landed on a goblin's foot. The smaller creature yelped and kicked the rock hard. From the looks of it, that hurt the goblin more than the rock.

"Noo angry," Ludo bellowed. "Rocks friends. No angry with rocks."

The goblin gave the monster a very impolite gesture. He was a small figure with a silver ring in one eyebrow and shaggy brown fur. Pretty decent looking as far as goblins went. The other goblins promptly swarmed the first, swatting it and correcting it in high-pitched voices.

"Rocks friends," the big, red monster repeated patiently in its rumbling bellow. "Everyone needs friends. You make rock friend."

The goblin pouted and poked the rock with a cautious finger. The rock in turn acted like a rock and did not move.

"Good friend," Ludo reiterated and looked at the other goblins. Behind him, the first goblin kicked the rock. From his resulting expression, he might as well have kicked a brick wall. Ludo looked back and shook his head patiently. "Noo angry. We start over. Rocks friends."

The other goblins tittered. The offending goblin cowered under the weight of his giant instructor's gaze.

"Let's leave them to it," Toby murmured. "We don't want to break their concentration while they're teaching the new guy."

"Yes," Sharon said, looking at the goblin with the pierced eyebrow and then tearing her gaze away. "Yes. I'm coming."

She'd almost forgotten. Everyone else had forgotten. Give it a week or two more, she would too. She was looking forward to that.

* * *

The marble floor was cold but the man's bed was covered in charcoal satin and warm. Bikkit liked his bed. The ferret liked it even better these days when the woman also slept in it regularly. Everything was so much neater when both her people were staying in the same place.

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits
> 
> Bikkit is a near-carbon copy of Morpheus, our first ferret, down to and including the stealing and stashing of countless erasers. I don't think she actually mastered trans-dimensional travel but I'm not sure. She stole a DKK 500 bill once and we never found it.
> 
> Lixxle's “My Fine Feathered Friend” on FFnet – it's a hilarious piece of comedy. What makes the story stand out to me, though, is that she is perfectly comfortable with her remorseless deviant and leather fetishist Goblin King, making no narrative excuses for his behaviour and decisions. It's harder than it sounds, not inflicting your own ethics and morals on your characters.
> 
> AsheRhyder's “Roommates” webcomic on deviantArt. It started out slapstick but over time, it's gained an undercurrent of fey mystery and darkness. Legend and archetypes aren't always PG13. It's spin-off by Pika-la-Cynique, “Girls Next Door”, is funnier but not quite so deep.
> 
> My husband for dutiful proof reading and arguing with me over plot points. It's a bit funny to think that when I wrote in 2010 I had to ask friends for help with the World of Warcraft references. When I finished this story, both of us played. It probably shows.
> 
> Finally, Stephen King and Terry Pratchett. I have a strange love-hate relationship with Stephen King. I love how he writes. I hate what he writes. His autobiography slash how to write manual, “On Writing”, is what got me started on this tale to begin with. Terry Pratchett is my role model. The way he combined contemporary culture and well-written comedy with undercurrents of scalding satire is worthy of worship.
> 
>  
> 
> Closing notes
> 
> It's been a long, strange trip. This story was only meant to be maybe four, five chapters long. But of course we all know that nothing is ever like it seems, and Sharon the mouse took on a life of her own. The relationship of Sarah and Jareth turned out to be a lot more complex than I expected. Stories tend to go where they want and I am just happy to have been along for the ride.
> 
> The real life counterpart of Bikkit is long gone. So’s the lilac tree. This story is a bittersweet memory of little fur balls of love. Reading the pop culture references from 2008 is funny and a little nostalgic. Life got hectic and it's been years. David Bowie died. I always knew I wanted to finish this story, I just did not realize it'd take nearly a decade. And now, of course, it's been reposted on AO3 for a whole new audience.
> 
> I got the inspiration for Lilac Fantasies from a long-forgotten, New Agey page on Geocities (Unfortunately, I didn't copy it down). The page talked about sylphs – invisible and magical air spirits or elementals. Some modern story writers classify sylphs as an elemental branch of the Sidhe of Celtic myth. They were first described by Paracelsus the alchemist in the 1700s, but the belief is likely older. While sylphs in literature and poetry are usually female (as per the ballet, “The Sylph”), their defining characteristics are being flighty, rulers of dreams, and fond of children. They turn into animal form at will, usually birds. They get invoked for, and associated with, spiritual journeys and mental clarity. And, of course, Brian Froud knows his fairies.
> 
> I'm not saying Jareth is a sylph. But he could be. He'd probably laugh if you were to ask him.
> 
> Drop a review if you made it this far. I may be done with Lilac Fantasies but feedback inspires me to continue to write.


End file.
